


Ribbons & Detours

by sequence_fairy



Category: Bleach
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-05 09:32:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 83
Words: 20,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6699472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sequence_fairy/pseuds/sequence_fairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles and bits I've written for Bleach. Various pairings and genres.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 17. “Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…” & 49. “Well this is awkward…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Silliness.

“Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while,” Ichigo says, looking around himself, “good thing there’s a bit of room in here.” 

“Easy for you to say,” Rukia mutters, from somewhere near the middle of his chest. They’re pressed together in the closet where Rukia had shoved him and then fallen into herself. 

The _snick_  of the door latching behind her had made them both pause in their frantic struggling to extricate themselves. 

“I can’t believe we’re stuck in a _closet_  Kurosaki,” Rukia complains and Ichigo shifts restlessly. She’s very close, her body pressed up against his. He wonders if she notices how closely she is pressed up against him, and he stiffens noticeably when her fidgeting means that some of her body has become quite pressed against particular parts of his body. 

“Ichigo?” Rukia asks, and Ichigo forces himself to relax. “Is everything okay?” 

Before Ichigo can answer, the door to the closet opens and they fall out and land in a heap.

“Well,” drawls Ishida, as he looks at them, “this is awkward.” 


	2. 37. “Wanna dance?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. This might have been a highschool au in another life.

“Come on Ichigo, it’ll be fun.” 

“No.” 

“Spoilsport.” 

Ichigo huffed, and _looked_  at her. “I am not going to some stupid _dance_ , Rukia.” 

“Why not?” Rukia looked up at him, and Ichigo felt the start of the crumbling of his will. Her eyes were bottomless, and _god_ , he’d do anything she asked when she looked at him like that. “Don’t you want to dance with me?” 

“It’s not that –” Ichigo started, then sighed. “ _Fine_ , I’ll go to the stupid dance with you.” 

Rukia all but squealed with delight and leapt up to peck him on the cheek. She whirled away when the bell rang and Ichigo lifted his hand to his cheek. She’d kissed him. On the cheek - but still. She’d kissed him. He stood there, in the hallway, staring after her as she disappeared into the milling crowds of students. 


	3. 22. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Pining with bonus observant!Ishida.

Ichigo watches her when he thinks she doesn’t notice.

Of course she notices, he’s not exactly subtle about it, and Rukia has always been the observant type. 

At first, she chalks it up to a school boy infatuation – a fascination born out of the results of an impossible choice on a mad night – but it doesn’t stop. He watches her move, watches her fight, watches her leave – watches her whenever he thinks she isn’t watching him. 

Unfortunately for Ichigo Kurosaki, Rukia is a lot better at surreptitious surveillance then he is. 

So, she watches him, watching her. 

It’s Ishida who catches on first, and he leans in close to Rukia one afternoon while the whole group is eating lunch together. “I see you,” he says, and Rukia starts and feels the stain of a flush heating her cheeks. “He doesn’t, but I do.” 


	4. 18. “This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Silliness.

“Are you – you’re actually serious.”

“Yeah, what of it Rukia?”

“This is without a doubt, the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. And _that_  includes the ‘hack a _menos grande_  to pieces without any backup’ plan.” 

“Are you in or not?”

“Of course I’m in fool.” 

The plan goes to shit, of course, because it was Ichigo’s plan, and he’s shit for plans and she _knows_  that but she still goes along with it, because it’s Ichigo and well, she was young and stupid once. They only barely get away, but Rukia’s stomach hurts from laughing for hours after and Ichigo’s smile reaches his eyes.


	5. 14. “ Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.” & 33. “Please don’t do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Angst. Character death.

“Please don’t do this,” he says, gathering her close to him. She’s limp in his arms, the afterimage of her _bankai_  fading from his gaze. He knows he runs hot, but she _burns_ with the ice in her veins. _Sode no Shirayuki_  falls from her nerveless fingers and hits the ground with the tinkle of glass on ice. 

“Rukia,” he says, “come on.” He rubs her arms through the sleeves of her  _shihakusho_ , and curls more tightly around her, willing some of his own heat into her body. 

He’d started his own mental clock as soon as he’d felt the whisper of snow down the back of his neck, and the searing ache of her leaching the heat out of the air. She has four seconds, and he knows, because the first time, she held it as long as she could and it was five and a half and they nearly lost her before they figured out how to get her warm again. She shivered for days after. 

Her whispered  _‘bankai’_ will haunt his dreams, because he knows she never meant to come out of this one, because he knows she saw what he didn’t, the blade coming for his neck and that he’d never get out of the way in time. The way she’d screamed his name and how he’d hit the deck instinctively, reacting to the tone of her voice more than anything. 

She’d unleashed the full strength of her power with a yell that shook him to his core and Ichigo had cowered on the ground, hands over his head, a feeble _kido_ shield his only protection, while Rukia upended the entire premise of thermodynamics. 

It took six and a half seconds to end everything.

And now, she’s coming around. Her lips are blue and her eyelashes are ringed with frost. She’s never been more breathtaking.

“Hi,” he says when she focuses on him and he lets out a shaky breath he’d forgotten he was holding. 

“Hi yourself,” she rasps, and then coughs. The ice on her eyelashes is not melting, and now she’s growing frost in her hair. She blinks, and Ichigo watches, fascinated as her tears turn to beads of ice that slip down her cheeks. 

“Don’t do this to me,” he says hoarsely, and Rukia’s mouth curves in a pale imitation of her signature smirk.  

“Ichigo,” she says, and her voice is steady, even if she trembles in his arms like an aspen leaf. It makes him look at her again, and her eyes are so wide and so dark, like the night that wheels overhead. “You know I’m with you,” she says, and Ichigo has to take a moment to parse her phrase in his head because it’s more than just the words. 

“I know,” is what he settles on replying, and she smiles, soft and sweet. 

“Always Ichigo,” Rukia says, and lifts her hand to the centre of his chest. He can feel the burn of the cold through the layers of fabric. “I’m here, with you.” 

“Don’t go,” Ichigo says, and it comes out in a rasp of emotion. Rukia’s hand flexes against his chest then drops to her stomach. She breathes once more, and then she stops shivering. 


	6. 32. “I think I’m in love with you, and I’m terrified.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Pining.

It’s night. The sky is dark and moonless. Rukia stands, perched on a hydro pole, watching the park where she took Ichigo the first time she showed him how to fight a Hollow. 

She’s still. The night is still too, except for the breeze that rushes through the trees at the far end of the park. Ichigo is asleep in his bed, and she could not sleep, not with him that close, not after everything. So she slipped out, flitted across rooftops and ended up here. 

She hops down from the pole, her _shunpo_ so light that she lands without disturbing the dust on the playground. She thinks he would be proud of her for that, proud of how much time she put into becoming a better _shinigami_  so that he would become a better _shinigami_ in her wake. He’s long since outstripped her though, and now she trails behind him, her ice curling and snarling in the eddies left behind by his fire. 

She thinks about his face, the way he’d smiled at her tonight, and the way her heart had clenched and her stomach had bottomed out and the flush that had risen up unbidden to stain her cheeks. He’d teased her, and she’d yelled at him - because it was the only thing she could do to keep the words that were bubbling up her throat from escaping. 

“I think I’m in love with you,” she says now, to the empty park, to the dark sky, “and I’m terrified.”


	7. 20. “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Angst. Character death.

Ichigo’s lying on the pavement, and for a minute, Rukia can believe that this is just like that last time, and that he’ll open his eyes and smile at her, like he did that last time, with that _knowing_  in his eyes. 

But, as she throws herself to her knees beside him, she knows this is not like the last time. He’s bleeding out, and her hands shake as she tries to weave the _kido_  around his wound, but her power’s sapped too, and the blue light flickers out before it even gets to him. She says the whole incantation, digging for reserves of her power and the blue light fizzes around her fingers, and dances across his skin, but does nothing. 

“Ichigo,” she says, hands clutching reflexively at his shoulders, while she leans in closer to his face, “Ichigo!” She hates how wrecked she sounds, but she can’t stop herself, “Ichigo!” 

“Please,” she murmurs, “please, you have to wake up.” 

Around them, the ring of steel against steel and the flash of _kido_  goes on, and the battle rages, but Rukia can hear nothing but the sound of her ragged breathing and absence of his. 

“Please,” she says, dropping her head to rest against his silent chest, “I can’t do this without you.” 


	8. 5. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Silliness. This might have been an au in another life.

Ichigo watches Rukia and doesn’t think about the way she moves in the borrowed dress or the way her heels make her already impossibly-long legs look even longer or the way her hair catches the light or the way her eyes sparkle as she drinks more champagne. 

He watches her talk to friends of his dad’s, watches her charm them with the schoolgirl smile and something green twists in his stomach. He is not jealous. Not even a little bit. 

She finally makes her way back over to the table he has claimed as theirs and sinks into the chair across from him, lifting her legs into his lap. Absently, he takes off her shoes, then presses his thumb in the arch of her foot. 

She shivers and he watches goosebumps ripple across her skin. 

“Having fun Rukia?” He asks, and she nods. “Noticed you were making friends.” 

“There’s a lot of interesting people to talk to here Ichigo,” she says, and then arches one eyebrow at him, as if to ask _‘what, are you jealous?’_ before her eyes flutter shut and her head drops back as his hands find a particularly good spot on the bottom of her foot. It’s almost obscene the way she goes boneless in the chair, and it quiets the green thing that lives in his belly. 

No one else at this stupid party gets to go home with her, and take off the dress that hugs her skin in all the right places and Ichigo grins when she actually moans as he continues massaging her foot and spans his hand around her ankle. 


	9. 27. “I’m pregnant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Not baby!fic.

“I’m pregnant,” she says.

Ichigo grins, and Rukia holds his hand tightly. They’ve been trying for so long and now that it’s finally time, neither Ichigo nor Rukia can stop the wide smiles that grace their faces. 

“Oh Yuzu,” Rukia gushes, gathering her sister-in-law into a hug that threatens to smother her. Ichigo waits his turn, and watches his father, hanging back at the door of the kitchen. 

“What? No screaming or crying?” 

Isshin smiles softly, and shakes his head. “No,” he says, and there’s a sadness in his eyes that Ichigo feels in the deepest part of his heart. 


	10. 24. “You’re the only one I trust to do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. A little light bondage.

Rukia tightens the knots around Ichigo’s wrists. He tugs experimentally, but they hold. She looks at him, and lofts an eyebrow in question. 

“You’re the only one,” Ichigo says, interrupted by a gasp as Rukia trails her hands down his torso, “that I trust to do this.” 

“Of course,” Rukia says, with a smile that makes Ichigo’s toes curl, “like I’d let anyone else tie you up and take you apart.”

Ichigo groans and arches, testing the strength of Rukia’s knots. Rukia grins. She’s going to enjoy this as much as he is. 


	11. 1. “Come over here and make me.” & 8. “Wanna bet?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Sparring session as foreplay.

“Come over here and make me,” Rukia says, and Ichigo advances on her. This sparring session has turned into something else and neither of them have noticed. 

“I really don’t think you know what you’re asking,” Ichigo says, planting the tip of  _Zangetsu_  into the ground and leaning on the hilt. 

“Wanna bet?” Rukia asks, levelling  _Sode no Shirayuki_  in his direction. Ichigo grins and Rukia flashes him a grin of her own. 

Their swords meet in the crash of steel on steel. Ichigo ducks under her blade and whirls around, parrying Rukia’s thrust and sending her flying back with a heavy swing of his own. 

“Asshole,” Rukia grits out, before throwing herself back into the fray. They dance around each other, blades meeting and separating. “I think you’ll find that I –” Rukia parries his thrust and sparks fly along the edges of their blades, “am more than a match for you Ichigo Kurosaki.” 


	12. 34. “If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Silliness and a bit of smut.

Ichigo grins, and Rukia can’t fight the swoop of arousal that makes itself at home at the base of her spine.

“If you keep looking at me like that, we won’t make it to a bed,” Rukia says, lifting herself onto her toes to kiss the smug grin off his face. His mouth is warm and wet and Rukia arches into him, chasing the feel of his body against hers. She can feel him hard against her. 

“Not sure I care,” Ichigo husks, spinning them around to press her into the wall of his bedroom, “right here would be just fine.” 


	13. 50. “Stay the night?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ishihime. Soon to be resolved UST.

“Stay the night?” She asks, catching his hand. Uryu turns, and Orihime watches the war on his face. He’s never stayed; she’s never asked, and he would never suggest it. 

It’s late now though, later than it was the last time he came over, and there’s been weeks of stolen kisses and breathless fumblings in hidden corners, and Orihime wants _more._ She wants to hear him properly, wants to feel his skin under hers, wants to see what it takes for that perfectly arched brow to draw down in concentration and the hard lines of his shoulders to soften into something akin to bliss. 

“Please?” She asks, “I would love it if you stayed.”

“Are – are you sure?” 

“Yes. I’m sure.” She grips his hand, and he follows her down the hall. 


	14. 36. “I wish I could hate you”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ishihime. One-sided, unrequited.

He watches her, watching _him_ , and it makes him seethe. _He_ doesn’t even notice she’s alive, unless she’s in mortal peril, and then it’s only secondary to the more important people in Kurosaki’s life. 

Ishida waits, bides his time, because he knows, that someday, he’ll be there when she needs him, and he’ll be the one she turns to, when Rukia and Ichigo finally figure out their shit and stop dancing around what everyone else has known from the first time they ever saw each other. 

He wishes, gods he wishes, that he could hate Ichigo Kurosaki. But he can’t, because Orihime - Orihime would never look at him again and it would be the end of everything if she stopped noticing him. 


	15. 13. “Kiss me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ishihime. A little bit of all the feelings.

“Kiss me,” she says, rain pouring around them as he shelters her with his umbrella. 

“Kiss me,” he says, backing her into the island in the kitchen of the flat they share. 

“Kiss me,” she begs, when he’s moving within her and the stars are exploding behind her eyes. 

“Kiss me,” he whispers, when he’s leaving for a medical conference and his plane is being called for boarding.  

“Kiss me,” they tell each other, when they’re standing up in front of their friends, declaring their love for each other.

“Kiss me,” he breathes, when she leans over him, the golden glow of her healing light flashing over his skin.

“Kiss me,” she says, with tears in her eyes.


	16. 43. "You look really sexy when you do that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ishihime. Archery-related silliness.

There’s sexy - dark eyes, dark hair, those delicate hands she wants to have wrapped around her waist - and then there’s _sexy_. 

Inoue watches Ishida pull back on his bow, watches his fingers grip the string of blue light, watches the crackling _reishi_  light up his face, and watches as he straightens; shoulders back, spine straight, and feet planted. 

He’s not looking at her - not looking at anybody except the oncoming rush of violence. He’s steady, hands around his bow, but loose - relaxed into that moment of supreme confidence of someone who knows exactly where their arrow is going to land. 

He lets the bolt fly, and Inoue tracks it across the sky. It lands, perfectly on target, obliterating a group of hollows. Ishida doesn’t watch, he’s already nocking the next one, already sighting his next target. 

Later, when they’re alone and the battle is won, she leans in, close enough to make him stiffen against her. 

“You know,” she says, “you look really sexy when you use your bow.” 

She watches the flush climb up his neck, and smiles. 


	17. 28. "How dare you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ishihime. Angst.

“Let’s go Ishida,” Kurosaki says, and sweeps out of the room, the sword on his back glinting in the moonlight. Before Ishida can make it out the door, to follow Kurosaki out into the night, Inoue steps in front of him.

“How _dare_ you?” She hisses, voice like a whip crack around his head. Ishida takes an involuntary step back.

“Inoue –”

“Goddamnit Ishida,” she snarls, advancing on him.

He backs up another step.

He’s never seen her like this; her eyes flash with something dangerous, her hair lifts out around her shoulders in a red-gold halo, and she jabs him in the chest with one long-nailed finger. She is _livid_. He can’t think of a time when he’s ever seen her angry, let alone this upset.

“You don’t get to do this,” she says, and Ishida is surprised at the way her eyes suddenly fill with tears. “You don’t get to do this,” she repeats, burying her face in his chest, and he is at a loss. He brings his arms up around her; feels her shaking shoulders, feels the way her hands clutch and grab at him like she’s trying to pull him into herself.

“Don’t get to do what?” Ishida asks warily, and when she looks up at him, tears spill down her face.

“You don’t get to go out there and die on your own.”

“I won’t be on my own,” he says, ignoring the part about dying - because that’s more and more likely, every time he follows Kurosaki into battle. If any of them survive this, it will be a goddamn miracle.

“Please don’t die Ishida-kun,” Inoue says, and Ishida feels it like a knife to his gut - and he is _intimately_ familiar with that feeling.

“Hey, Inoue – Orihime,” he says, and lifts her chin with one hand. “I’ll come back to you. Don’t worry.”

Inoue’s eyes fill with fresh tears and Ishida has no idea what he’s done wrong. He stands there, mouth open like a fish while she sobs into his chest. Kurosaki pokes his head back in through the door, and Ishida can see that whatever he was going to say dies on his tongue.

“You gotta let me go,” Ishida says, looking helplessly over Inoue’s head at Kurosaki who is now leaning on the doorjamb, watching the scene unfolding before him. Kurosaki offers no help, and Ishida glares at him before reaching around himself and prying Inoue’s hands off his waist. She steps back, sniffling.

“Promise me Ishida-kun,” she says, and there’s something in her voice that takes his breath away.

“I –” he hesitates. This is the kind of promise that you don’t make. Because it’s one that no one knows if they can keep. She looks up at him, dark eyes still awash with tears and he grits his teeth. He has no choice (he never had a choice really, it was always going to be this way).

This is a promise he’s going to make, and one he is going to keep.

“I promise,” he says and Inoue stops crying. Ishida wraps her in a proper hug, inhales the scent of her hair and furtively presses his lips to her forehead as he pulls away. “Stay here, and stay safe,” he admonishes and then meets Kurosaki’s gaze. The other man’s eyes are troubled but clear when Ishida doesn’t look away.

“Let’s go Ishida,” Kurosaki says, for the second time, and this time, Ishida follows him out into the night.


	18. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Written for the [deathberryprompts](http://deathberryprompts.tumblr.com) weekly drabble theme. Prompt was 'satisfied'.

“Satisfied?” Rukia asks, and Ichigo grins lazily. He’s sprawled across her bed, one arm thrown out in her direction, the other over his eyes. Her heart is still tripping in her chest, and Ichigo’s breathing hasn’t quite evened out yet.

He lifts the arm covering his eyes, and Rukia’s watches his gaze rake down her body. She doesn’t bother to lift her own arms to cover herself, content in his obviously, appreciative appraisal.

“Missed you,” he says, and Rukia notes the softness of his gaze on her before it turns smug. “Missed _this_.”

Rukia snorts. “Missed you too you fool.”


	19. 10. "I can't take this anymore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ishihime.

“I can’t take this anymore,” he says, and she looks up from her school books, red hair falling in front of her face. 

“Can’t take what Ishida-kun?” Inoue asks, pulling her hair back behind her ears. She looks at him expectantly. 

“Just –” he stops and Inoue waits for him to continue. His gaze flicks from her, across the room to where Rukia and Kurosaki are sitting close, heads bent together and then back. Eventually he shakes his head and goes back to his notes. “Never mind Inoue-san,” he says, and she blinks. 


	20. 11. "Are you gonna just sit there or are you gonna help me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Silliness.

Ichigo looks around. Rukia is still sitting on his bed, manga open and ignored on her lap while she watches him struggle. His arms shake, the muscles bunching as his hands flex around the edge of the shelf. It weighs a goddamn ton, and is awkward as hell to manoeuvre. 

“Are you gonna just sit there, or are you gonna help me?” Ichigo asks, turning back to the shelf, adjusting it minutely to get it to a level point. 

“Lift it up a little on the left hand side,” Rukia answers, and goes back to her manga. Ichigo resists the urge to toss the entire shelf at her. He’s putting this fucking shelf up because of _her_  godddamn manga obsession, couldn’t she help, even just a little? 

“Goddamnit Rukia,” Ichigo snarls, “put your book down, and _help_ me.” 

Rukia sighs, but turns the volume over and slides off his bed. “Ichigo,” she says, as she gets closer to him, “this shelf is too high. I’ll never be able to reach my books. We’ll need to lower it.” 

Ichigo doesn’t scream, but it’s a near thing. 

Some hours later, the shelf is installed, and Rukia is cheerfully organising her manga. Ichigo is icing his shoulder, where he wrenched it trying to keep the shelf from landing on her head when she tugged one side down to show him where she wanted it. 

She’s a pain in the ass, his Rukia, but he does enjoy watching her, bending down over the boxes of her manga and then reaching up to place them on the shelf. 


	21. Yearning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Written for the [deathberryprompts](http://deathberryprompts.tumblr.com) weekly drabble theme. The theme was 'grasping'.

Ichigo remembers holding her close. Rukia is all small bones and sharp angles; soft curves forgone for the tautness of sword-calloused hands. She moves like a stooping falcon - all lethal grace and deceptive fragility.

His hands are empty now.

Rukia remembers holding him close. Ichigo is all long legs and flinty eyes; easy smiles forsaken for the the whistle of a blade in motion. He moves like a stalking cat - all vicious agility and subtle violence.

Her hands are empty now.

They’re both grasping at nothing - stretching across the void between worlds, trying in vain to grab a hold of something, _anything_ , that will bring them back together.

Their hands are empty now.


	22. H. Read You Like a Book

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ishihime. PTSD.

There are lot’s of things about Ishida that Inoue just knows. Things like how he takes his tea, how he always ferrets out something to use as a bookmark and never turns down the corners of pages in books, how he stands with deadly grace, reishi lighting his face, and bow pulled back to his ear,, how he has always carried everything silently and without complaint and how his shoulders remain unbowed under the weight of it all.

There are some things though, that she can’t help with - no matter how much she wants to.

After the end of everything, when Yhwach was (finally) laid low and the Seireitei could begin the long, slow process of rebuilding, Inoue remembers Ishida walking out of the rubble; blood on his coat, dirt on his face, and his hair ragged and singed. She remembers the way he’d stumbled and fallen to his knees, the reishi of his bow fizzling out into sparking embers.

She remembers the way his gaze had suddenly burned; the way his eyes went fierce and hot and she shivers now, standing next to him as he breathes himself through what someone else might call a panic attack - but Ishida will just refuse to acknowledge - remembering the intensity of his face. She remembers the way he’d husked her name, before keeling over. She remembers the tearing, screaming rush of getting to him, and the desperation that fuelled that healing.

She thinks, maybe, because of that, she knows a little about what it’s like for him when the nightmares come. She has her own nightmares - what sane person wouldn’t after what she’s been through - has had them for years, but hers are old ghosts, and easily put back in their place.

Ishida is only newly haunted by his - they come for him in the night and even, sometimes, during the day, when his back is turned and his defences are down. She’s watched him struggle to hold them back, watched him get up and walk out of a lecture, watched him stop on the sidewalk and close his eyes. She imagines he’s counting to ten, hoping to dispel whatever images have become superimposed over the familiar streetscape of Karakura - because that’s what she does when she loses track of here and now and trips and falls into the dragging whirl of recollection.

There are fancy medical words for what she knows Ishida has, what Kurosaki has - what they _all_ have - but Inoue’s never been one for labels. And besides, they are not post-anything - there are still hollows to fight and Karakura to protect. She thinks she’ll probably never stop flinching when Kurosaki lifts his hand to his face, even if all he’s doing is pushing his fringe out of his eyes. Memory is a powerful thing, and it doesn’t loosen its grip easily.

She’s learned that in the throes of a flashback, he’ll accept her hand, that it’s okay to touch him, so long as she doesn’t startle him - and _that_ she learned the hard way when he manifested the bow so fast she had no time to even contemplate a shield. He’d let it dissipate with horror in his face, as soon as he’d realised the person who’d grabbed his hand was her, but Inoue will never forget his face - there’d been lethal intent in his eyes. He’d been fully prepared to destroy the perceived threat - to destroy her.

Ishida is an open book in a way that Kurosaki never was, even though he works just as hard to bury the darker bits of himself. Inoue has learned to read him, to know when she can ask and when she shouldn’t, and when she should hustle him out and when she can leave him alone to fight through it. She’s not sure if he knows that she knows these things. She decides just to continue on like she has been - anticipating his needs, and leaving him alone when it gets to be too much and he needs space that he doesn’t know how to ask for.

For all that she gives him the space he needs, she doesn’t let him get away with anything. She drags him out with her, makes him follow her around the grocery store with her cart and loads it full of odds and ends. She forces him into interaction with the rest of their friends, refuses to allow him bury himself behind the walls of textbooks and study notes. Gradually, it becomes less and less of a fight, and when he calls her one night, and asks her to come with him to run some errands, Inoue knows they’ve started coming down the other side of the mountain, and that the stranglehold of memory is finally starting to ease.


	23. W - Whispering a Wish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ishihime.

It’s late. Or perhaps, very early. Ishida isn’t sure. They’ve been driving for hours and hours. Inoue is stretched out on the passenger seat beside him, staring at the sky through the sunroof. 

“Oh,” she gasps suddenly, and Ishida clutches the wheel, managing, just barely, to keep the car from swerving. 

“Don’t _do_  that,” he grouses, turning his head briefly to look at her. Inoue smiles impishly at him and Ishida goes back to looking at the road. 

“Did you see that?” Inoue asks. 

“I’m driving,” Ishida reminds her. 

“It was a shooting star,” Inoue says, then raises her seat back so she can sit up. “You should make a wish.” 

“I can’t,” Ishida answers, “I didn’t see the star remember?” 

“I’ll make one for you then.” Inoue reaches across the centre console and confidently drops her hand onto his thigh. Ishida doesn’t jump, but it’s a near thing. He’s not _good_ at physical intimacy or casual affection - too many years of keeping himself separate and aloof, so as not to invite further hurt. 

Inoue _is_ good at it - she touches and brushes and leans and slowly, so slowly, Ishida has let her in and she’s crumbling his defences from the inside out.

“I’m not sure that’s how it works,” Ishida says. Inoue squeezes his thigh then takes her hand away. And honestly? What is there to wish for? He has everything he could possibly want - Inoue in his life, friends that are more like family and a house and a car and really, he doesn’t want to be greedy. 

“Who are you to decide how wishing on a shooting star works?” Inoue asks with a laugh, and then; “I wish –” she trails off and looks at him. He can see her out of the corner of his eye. 

“Go on then,” he says, impatient. 

“I wish to always have you with me, Ishida-kun.” 


	24. 3. "Kind of romantic, isn't it?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ishihime.

It’s pretty cliché he thinks, this whole date thing that they’re doing _._ He’s not even sure it _is_ a date, for all he knows, Inoue-san takes all her friends out for ice cream and fireworks and stands too close next to them on the bank of the canal. 

 _You’re an idiot, Ishida_. 

For some reason, the voice in his head sounds suspiciously like Kurosaki and Ishida grimaces. That is something he doesn’t need at _all_. 

She leans into him, and Ishida stiffens. She sighs and rests her head on his shoulder. 

“Kind of romantic, isn’t it?” she asks, and he looks down and to his right. She’s looking up at him, and suddenly, he understands - this _is_ a date, and _she_  is courting him. 

 _Get your act together, Ishida_. 

He fumbles for her hand, and she laces their fingers together, squeezing his hand gently as she does. 

Above them, the sky explodes in a riot of colour, and it reflects in her eyes. 

It is romantic. It’s stupid. It’s _perfect_. 


	25. Reckless Endangerment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Written for the [Deathberryprompts](http://deathberryprompts.tumblr.com) weekly drabble theme. This week's theme was 'You came back.'

The dust in the air is settling now, and the grit of it sits on her skin. Rukia licks her lips and tastes sand and ice and the acrid tang of _reiatsu_ -laced violence.

“You came back,” Ichigo says. He’s breathing hard and leaning on z _angetsu_.

“Of course,” Rukia answers, _Sode no Shirayuki_ held loosely in her hands. The hilt is still cool to the touch, and she shifts her grip to sheath it, letting her _shikai_ go and feeling the whispering departure of _Shirayuki_ in her mind.

“Why did you come back? I told you to go.”

He had – he’d yelled it, punctuated by the ring of steel on steel and the woosh of _shunpo_ – z _angetsu_ flashing in his hands, it’s ebony-black blade cutting through the air as he carved a swathe of space to allow for her escape. She’d fled, but only far enough to regroup and had jumped back into the fray with vengeance on her mind.

“Fool,” Rukia retorts. Ichigo husks a laugh. He straightens with a wince. Rukia notices the splash of vermillion down his front. “You’re hurt,” she says, gesturing to his chest. Ichigo looks down at himself and then back to her.

“Looks like it,” he says, and Rukia wishes he wasn’t so she could cuff him ‘round the head for his insolence.

“Don’t be stupid Ichigo,” she says. She runs through the incantation and watches as the blue light of the _kido_ stops the blood and seals the wound enough that they can get back to the Fourth without him collapsing from blood loss. “Let’s go.”


	26. U - Unsent Letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. WWII AU.

Rukia still writes him letters. 

They don’t go anywhere except into the fire, but she still writes every day. It’s hard to get out of a habit once formed. She supposes she could write in a journal, but this way, it almost feels like he’s still reading them, like he’s still waiting for the letters to come and that someday, she might get one back. 

She tells him about her day, about going to the market, about the girls at work, about how the rationing is easing, about how the town is rebuilding, and she writes about the fluttering pulse in her stomach - the tiny life that she is growing - the tiny life that they made before he left. 

She writes about how terrified she is to do this by herself, about how long and lonely the nights are without him, about her seething jealousy when other women’s husbands and brothers and fathers and sons come home, about the ache that lives under her breastbone, about the weeks where time stopped because a yellow telegram was on the floor in the hallway when she came home from work. 

She writes about the agony that sliced through the joy of finding out she was pregnant, about how their child will never know his father, and about how angry she is that he died. How could he? How could Ichigo leave her? 

She sits at the table in the kitchen, with her cup of tea gone cold and pours her heart out in a letter, because he’s never coming back - because he died in the mud, and left her here in their flat, alone with their unborn child and a million words in a thousand unsent letters.


	27. S - Stealing a Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ishihime.

Inoue steals kisses like she stole his heart - out from under his feet and without any kind of preamble or explanation. 

Ishida is left breathless when she slides up next to him in the morning and buries her face in the join of his neck and shoulder. She pecks him on the cheek before she heads out for the day, slipping her hands under his jacket to press against his back. She pulls his head down to her level when he comes home, kisses the stress of his day right out of his body. 

Inoue steals kisses, but Ishida gives them up willingly. 


	28. D - From Dusk 'til Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Timeskip!fic.

Rukia watches the sunrise. 

It’s a beautiful one, all reds and oranges and streaked with clouds. Rukia remembers an old proverb about red skies and sailors. She wonders what storm is coming now. They’ve weathered so many together, and for some reason, this sunrise feels like an omen. 

She leaps down from her perch on a hydro pole outside the Kurosaki house. 

(Where she’s been all night and doesn’t that say something about how well (not well at all) she is handling this enforced separation? Rukia doesn’t like to think about it too much. It’s much easier to lie to yourself if you don’t ask yourself too many questions.) 

It’s early enough that Ichigo will still be sleeping, she has time to see him before Karin gets up and senses her presence in the house. 

Gathering herself, she phases out, _shunpo_  stepping into Ichigo’s room through the wall. He’s sprawled out on his bed, limbs akimbo and hair in his face. Before she can stop herself, she’s brushing his fringe off his face and Ichigo murmurs something unintelligible and his lips curve up into the barest hint of a smile. 

Rukia’s heart clenches in her chest, and she knows this is the last time she can come back, because if she doesn’t stop now, she’ll never stop, and it kills her a little bit more every time that she has to walk away without leaving some trace of herself to let him know that she’s watching, that she’s there, that she misses him too. 


	29. 26. "You don't even know what you do to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ishihime.

There’s no way she knows - no way that she knows that the way her hair swings like a ribbon of sunset red down her back is a beacon drawing him into her orbit. There’s no way she knows that the way her eyes light up when she sees him makes his heart skip beats it probably can’t afford to miss. 

Even now, when he’s lying next to her, breathing hard in the afterglow, he’s convinced she doesn’t know. She can’t possibly understand what she does to him, can’t possibly comprehend that she has worked her way through all the chinks in what he thought was impenetrable armour, that she’s carefully and skilfully wormed her way into the cracks in his façade and made herself at home in the spaces in between. 

“Ishida?” she asks, and she’s still breathless and Ishida relishes it. He did that - he made her lose her breath, made her come apart, made her cry out in the darkness of her bedroom, made her say his name like a plea to her patron goddess and he has the sting of her nails in his shoulders as a badge of remembrance. 

He rolls over to look at her, and she smiles at him, and Ishida is bowled over by the look in her eyes - naked and yearning and yet, backed by something warm and gentle that takes his breath away. There’s an ache where the hollow space in his chest used to be - the space she filled with her light and her touch and her unhindered joy at being alive.

“I don’t think you know,” she says, reaching out to touch his face, “what you do to me.” 

Ishida closes his eyes and leans forward to touch his forehead to hers. “It’s probably the same thing you do to me,” he says, and he can hear her smile. 


	30. 44. "I can't stop thinking about you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ishihime. Prelude (of sorts) to the previous fic.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says, and she smiles. 

He’s sprawled on her couch, and Inoue is both surprised and pleased that Ishida is capable of such slouching. He’s all loose limbs and easy grace like this, and she loves him for it. She loves that she’s the only one who gets to see him like this, shirtsleeves rolled up and the tails untucked from his trousers. 

He reaches out and catches her behind the knee, pulling her down on top of him. He’s all hard lines and sharp angles, but Inoue doesn’t mind - her curves soften his edges. When he fits his mouth to hers, she feels the curl of heat at the base of her spine and she grinds her hips into his, dragging a ragged gasp out of his mouth.

“Come to bed with me?” Inoue asks, and Ishida grins. There’s filthy promise in it, and Inoue shivers as his hands splay across her spine. 

“Why do we need to go to bed? I’m fine right here,” Ishida’s eyebrows waggle suggestively and Inoue suppresses a giggle. He looks ridiculous and she tells him so. Ishida smiles again, and drags his hands down her back, stopping to cup her behind and pull her hips into his again. 

Inoue props herself up on her elbows on his chest. “I want to see you in my bed Ishida,” she says, and then rolls off him, reaching down a hand for his. 


	31. This is Sacred

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Written for the [deathberryprompts](http://deathberryprompts.tumblr.com) weekly drabble theme. Prompt was 'affection'.

It’s like this:

Rukia’s hair spills like midnight ink down the back of her haori and Ichigo’s spills like a river of flame down the back of his.

(Sometimes, after, she braids their hair together and Ichigo smiles so softly that she thinks she might crack into a thousand glittering pieces)

It’s like this:

Ichigo’s sword cleaves through obstructions on his path to get to her and Rukia’s dances in her hands as she fights to get to him.

(He would pass through ten million blades to reach her, and when she thinks about it, Rukia feels like she’s never been worthy of his devotion)

It’s like this:

Rukia arches against the brush of his hands down her spine, and Ichigo hums into the soft swell of her chest.

(He is the sand in the hourglass and Rukia is the sweep of the second-hand around the clock face)

It’s like this:

Ichigo presses his lips to hers, and Rukia tangles her hands in his hair. Everything around them falls away.

(She knows the world spins impossibly fast, and that she’d fall off if Ichigo wasn’t there to hold her down - the speed of it is much too fast without him)


	32. 25.”Don’t laugh. I said don’t laugh!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ishihime. Baby!fic.

Inoue is watching him, eyes wary. Ishida blinks, then blinks again. He looks down at the plate she’s handed him. It’s a very interesting combination of things he thinks might be food, but given her taste buds lately, who knows. He lifts his fork apprehensively, and then looks across the table to Inoue.

“I said don’t laugh,” she wails, and he reaches across the table, grabbing her hands. 

“I’m not - I’m not laughing Inoue-san,” Ishida says. He’s not laughing, he _is_ however, not sure what exactly she has served him. “Tell me about dinner.” 

Inoue sniffles, and Ishida is reminded again that hormones are a thing and that the next seven months of his life are probably going to be at once frustrating and glorious. 


	33. 41. “When did you get so badass?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ishihime. Silliness + clueless!Ichigo.

“When did you get so badass?” Kurosaki asks, gesturing at the smouldering remains of the hollow that had nearly gotten the jump on them. Inoue’s quick use of Tsubaki had probably saved all their skins. 

“Excuse you,” Ishida interrupts, “she was _always_  badass - it’s not her fault you only noticed now.” 

Inoue flushes prettily, and calls Tsubaki back to her, re-pinning her hair deftly. Ishida takes her hand, and they walk off together, leaving Kurosaki grumbling at Kuchiki-san - who is rolling her eyes so hard Ishida thinks they might fall out entirely. 

“Thank you, Ishida-kun,” Inoue says, and leans in, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’m glad I can always count on you to be there to defend me!” 

“O-of course Inoue-san,” Ishida stammers, and Inoue smiles at him, blinding and sweet. “Anytime.” 


	34. 36. “You put the ass in assassin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Assassins!au. This is ridiculous and I am not sure Ichigo would actually say that, but you know. Artist’s freedom and whatever. XD

The bullet takes a divot out of the clay shingle two inches from her hand and Rukia dives for cover. She scrabbles for purchase, trying to find a hand hold as she slides, head first towards the ground. Strafing fire from the chopper that’s been tailing both her and her mark makes her decision for her - she stops trying to stop falling and gives into gravity. 

Rukia rolls off the edge of the roof, and reaches out blindly for the clotheslines she knows are there. The rope burns through the palm of her gloves but the line holds. Her heart beats wildly against her ribs, and she’s breathing like she’s run a marathon - which, to be perfectly honest, she kind of has. He’s still on her six, her handler is screaming in her ear and she can hear the _chop-chop-chop_  of the helicopter overhead. 

She takes a deep breath and hand-over-hands it across the clothesline and then legs it through the apartment - to the surprise of it’s occupants, who yell at her in Albanian - and then she’s through their door and into the hallway. Her handler is still squawking at her and Rukia digs the earpiece out and loses it in a convenient trash can. She’ll catch up with Urahara after she gets out of this godforsaken country. 

“Well, don’t you put the ass in assassin,” says a voice just behind her and Rukia spins, knife drawn from her belt and at his neck before he can blink. 

“Missed me too, huh?” the man says, and lifts his own glove-covered hands in surrender. He’s got an assault rifle slung over his back, and Rukia looks up into amber eyes framed by ginger fringe and sighs. She does _not_  have time for him. 

“Back the fuck off Kurosaki,” Rukia threatens, but she lowers her blade. Never mind that they work for different handlers, different governments, different interests, among the elite in their particular profession there is a certain code of honour that isn’t broken - don’t kill another asset (unless you are being paid to do it) and Ichigo Kurosaki is, unfortunately, not her target for today.

“What’re you doing in this _lovely_  neighbourhood?” 

A hail of bullets accompanies his question, and they both duck and take cover behind a low concrete wall. 

“Trying not to die, you?” Rukia asks while trying to gauge whether she’ll be able to make the dash across the square to the building across the way and then perhaps find a car and get to the airport, all without being perforated by armour-piercing rounds. 

“Seems I’ve got the same priority right now,” Ichigo answers, and then he grabs her shoulder and throws them both to the ground as the whistle of something larger calibre than the previous rounds screams over their heads. It lands and blows twenty feet from them, filling the air with dust and the shockwave makes Rukia’s bones shake and her teeth rattle. 

“Let’s go,” Ichigo mouths, because neither of them can hear anything, and they pick their way out, staying low and under the cover of the dust thrown up by the explosion. Rukia’s hearing starts to come back when they reach the other side of the square and she strains to hear the sound of the chopper, but she can’t hear it. 

“They must think they got us,” Ichigo says, and Rukia turns to him. He’s looking down at her, and there’s rock dust in his hair and on his skin, turning it all kind of off-white. 

“We have to move,” Rukia says, and Ichigo nods. 

They get out of the country, Ichigo running interference at the border so she can get them through with their passably good but completely fake documentation, and then he takes her on a circuitous route back to Japan, via Reykjavik. 

It’s in the hotel in Iceland, after several too many bottles out of the mini-fridge and one too many stuttered confessions, that she kisses him. He kisses her back like he’s been wanting to do it for decades, and Rukia decides that Urahara can wait another week for her to come in. 


	35. 33.  “Quit staring!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Silliness + a bit of implied Ishihime.

“God,” Rukia complains, “would you stop?” 

Ichigo ignores her. He can’t help it. Honestly, if she wanted him to quit staring, she should simply be less stare-at-able. And anyway, she invited him to come along while she tried on dresses for Ishida and Inoue’s wedding, what else was she expecting to happen? 

She’s standing in front of the three-way mirror, turning this way and that, trying to see what the back of the practically back-less dress looks like on her. 

Ichigo knows nothing about fashion, but he knows what he likes on Rukia - things that nip in at her waist and show off the curve of her hips, made in colours that contrast with her fair skin and play up the violet in her eyes. Things exactly like this dress, which is royal purple and does all the aforementioned things to the lines of her body. It also helps that her shoulders are bare, and Ichigo can see the smattering of freckles that extend across the tops of them and along the top of her spine.

“I like this one,” he says, and Rukia rolls her eyes. 

“You would,” she says, then; “do you think it’s too much?” 

“No,” Ichigo says, and means it. Ishida and Inoue’s wedding will be a to-do if there ever was such a thing, and he’s already regretting agreeing to have any part in it. If he can spend the entire thing day-dreaming about Rukia in this dress, it’ll go a long way to helping him make it through the day without screaming. 

“You just like the way it makes my ass look,” Rukia says, pursing her lips in a moue of annoyance, and Ichigo grins. 

“Got it in one,” he agrees. He levers himself to his feet - the couches in this store are made for midgets - and comes to stand behind her in the mirror. He brushes her hair off her shoulder and leans down, close to her ear. “Let’s get out of here,” he says, “I want to practice taking it off.” 


	36. Run Like Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Written for the [deathberryprompts](http://deathberryprompts.tumblr.com) weekly drabble theme. The prompt was 'slow down'.

“Rukia! Wait!” Ichigo calls. He’s running after her. She’s still ahead of him, mist swirling in her wake. “Will you just slow down?”

He follows after her, his footfalls echoing around him. She makes no sound. The muscles in his legs burn, his heartbeat thunders in his ears and his breath sears in his lungs.

How long has he been chasing her?

It feels like his whole life, like he’s never known anything but this endless marathon, and she’s _always_ just out of reach.

“Hey!” he calls, stumbling to a stop. He leans over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. The rhythm of her steps changes and she slows. He grits his teeth, and takes off after her again, strength renewed.

“Would you wait?”

She stops, but doesn’t turn.  

“Rukia!” Ichigo yells, and his voice echoes back to him. He gets close enough that he can feel the breath of her movement when she spins and heads in the other direction. She’s close enough to touch, and he can’t help himself. He reaches out, and his hands grasp nothing. She slips through his fingers, as insubstantial as the mist surrounding them.

She disappears, and Ichigo wakes up.


	37. Sundown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Written for the [deathberryprompts](http://deathberryprompts.tumblr.com) weekly theme. This week's theme was 'twilight'.

Twilight is never the same colour twice; changing given the atmospheric density and the cloud cover and the particulate matter in the air.

Rukia is looking up at him, the dying light of day throwing sharp shadows across her face. Ichigo watches her eyes warm from their usual cool violet to something richer, something warmer, something closer to the painted sky above their heads.

He never used to like twilight – it’s liminal space has always been plagued by ghosts, both his own and other people’s – but now, staring into Rukia’s eyes, he thinks, maybe, twilight isn’t so bad.


	38. 23. “That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Silliness + snow. For Erin.

“This is the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” Rukia grouses. Ichigo ignores her. He focuses instead on wrangling the myriad packages she has piled into his arms. 

Christmas shopping. Why he ever let her talk him into this is beyond him. Well, really, he knows exactly how this happened. She does that thing where she looks at him all half-lidded and sloe-eyed and he suddenly can’t remember why he didn’t want to do the thing she asked him to do. She _knows_  it too, and is merciless in her use of it to get him to do what she wants. 

“I can’t believe you want to go back to the car now, we’re not even half-done.” Rukia steps off the curb to cross the street and Ichigo has to balance packages as well as keep her from getting hit by a truck that comes screaming by. He manages, just barely, to accomplish both of those things with a minimum of fuss. 

Rukia shakes off his hand, and steps confidently back out onto the street. Ichigo grabs the back of her coat, and hauls her back onto the sidewalk. She huffs at him, and tries to twist out of his grip. 

“Fucking stop,” he says, “you can’t just walk out into traffic! Jesus Rukia, you’re gonna get hit by a goddamn truck.” 

“I will not,” she retorts, icily, and Ichigo lets her go. She stumbles forward, nearly back out into traffic again, but rights herself just as another truck flies by, horn blaring. When she turns back to him, her eyes are wide. 

“Told you,” he says, taking spiteful pleasure in the way her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “C’mon, we gotta go down to the crosswalk.” He turns to walk down to the intersection at the end of the block. She trails after him, quiet now. 

When they get to the intersection, he shifts some of his load around so he can free one of his arms, and offers it to her. Snow starts to fall gently around them, and as they wait for the light to change, the air fills with the whirling flakes. They settle on her eyelashes and in her hair and Ichigo is forcibly reminded of the last time he saw her coated in ice. 

She takes his offered elbow and when the light changes, they walk across the street and down the rest of the block to the parking garage. By the time they get there, there’s a layer of snow coating everything, and Ichigo stamps his feet and shakes his head, showering the ground around him with snow, before stowing their purchases and then brushing off his shoulders. He looks around for Rukia, and finds her leaning out over the half-wall that surrounds the parking garage. Up here, the wind gusts make the snowflakes swirl and dance. 

“It’s beautiful,” she says, and Ichigo joins her at the edge. Privately, he agrees. She is rather lovely, flushed from the cold, snowflakes resting on her hair, and her eyes sparkling from the rush of icy wind. The small package he shoved into his coat pocket this morning suddenly feels like it weighs a goddamn ton, and Ichigo resists shoving his hand into his pocket. 

“Did you want to get something to eat before we go back to the house?” he asks, and she nods, leaning up on her toes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Ichigo turns his head at the last second and catches her lips full on his. 

He swallows her gasp of surprise and curls his cold fingers into the hair behind her ears, tilting her head to give him better access to her mouth. She gives as good as she gets, her momentary surprise at his forwardness gone as quickly as it came. She sweeps her tongue along his bottom lip, and Ichigo gives over control of the kiss to her. 

They break apart after another moment, and she’s flushed now for an entirely different reason and Ichigo can feel the heat of his own blood nearing the surface of his skin. When she speaks, Ichigo can hear the husk and catch in her voice. 

“I think I have a better idea.” 


	39. 4. “I will fight you. And win.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Sparring session as foreplay.

Rukia unsheathes her _zanpakuto;_  the ring of it’s release from it’s scabbard eddies around them. “En garde,” Rukia whispers, and it’s all the warning Ichigo has. She swings _sode no shirayuki_ at him, and Ichigo dodges, reaching up and back for _zangetsu’_ s hilt. 

“I will fight you,” she says, “and win.” 

“You sound pretty sure about that,” Ichigo says, twisting out the way of _sode no shirayuki_  and drawing _zangetsu_  down. Their blades meet, and Ichigo presses his advantage, making Rukia step back once, then three more times. He re-grips, and changes the angle of his attack, turning  _zangetsu’_ s blade. 

Rukia presses back, and the scrape of steel against steel makes Ichigo grit his teeth. Sparks fly off their blades. Rukia drops her shoulders, and the sudden decrease in tension throws Ichigo off-balance entirely. He stumbles forward and barely gets out of the way of the sweep of her blade. 

“Christ,” he grits out, flinging himself to the left, as Rukia spins, her blade a blur in her hands. He gets his own up and out in front of him, and the impact of their swords reverberates up his arm. “You trying to kill me?” he asks and Rukia grins - and Ichigo’s stomach bottoms out. There’s something nearly feral in the cut of her smile.  

“No,” she says, and thrusts the point of _sode no shirayuki_ in his direction. “I’m trying to _win_.” 

Ichigo whips _zangetsu_  up and deflects Rukia’s thrust, before stepping to the right. “You still sound pretty sure about that,” he says, and flashes around her. Rukia barely gets _sode no shirayuki_  up in time. Ichigo watches as her brows draw down in concentration, and that’s all the warning he gets. 

“First dance,” she says, and Ichigo jumps back. The chill wind whipped up by Rukia’s _reiatsu_  gives him goosebumps. 

“Hey! that's cheating!” he protests, “we said sealed blades only!"

Rukia’s _reiatsu_  sparks and flares, the wind of it’s release whipping up the sand at her feet. She’s never more beautiful then she is now, Ichigo thinks and he drops his guard, _zangetsu_ ’s tip digging into the sand at his feet. Rukia launches herself at him, and Ichigo doesn’t bother bringing up his hand in defence. 

Rukia pulls her blow, and rests the blade of her sword against his neck. “Yield,” she says, and Ichigo feels something dark swoop through his belly at the command in her voice. 

“Yes,” he says, “god, yes.”


	40. 26.  “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Angst.

He’s searched the entire bloody division and visited all her usual haunts and come up empty. He casts out his _reiatsu_  in an effort to try and use his senses to find her, but she keeps herself wrapped up so tightly that she’s damn near impossible to detect unless she wants to be found. 

It’s late when he finally finds her. 

She’s standing on the remains of Sokyoku Hill, staring up at the sky. He approaches cautiously, but she turns before he can even get within fifteen feet of her. There’s a far away look in her eyes and Ichigo wonders what she’s thinking about. 

“What are you doing here?” she asks him, and Ichigo is thrown by the question. What does she mean ‘what are you doing here’? He’s here because she’s here, he’s here because there’s no where else for him to go now that he’s more dead than alive. 

“What kind of a question is that?” Ichigo asks, when he finally finds his voice again. Rukia turns back to the sky. Ichigo moves closer to her, trying to gauge her mood. 

“It’s a perfectly good question Ichigo,” Rukia retorts, not taking her eyes off the spill of stars above their heads.  

Ichigo is at a loss. 

“I don’t - I don’t understand Rukia.” 

She turns to face him, and her eyes flash cold fire. Ichigo takes an involuntary step back. “It’s not a hard question Ichigo,” she says, taking a step towards him, “you should be able to answer it.” 

“Of course I can answer it!” Ichigo splutters, “I just don’t understand why you’re asking it.” 

“Because I have to know,” Rukia says, stepping firmly into his space. “I have to understand.” 

“Rukia,” Ichigo looks down at her, and she looks up. There’s something closed off and hidden in the back of her eyes. “Tell me what’s going on.” 

Rukia drops her gaze and steps back. Ichigo feels the distance like a blow. 

“You have no idea, do you?” she asks, and Ichigo is suddenly, extremely, tired of all these useless questions. 

“What the hell is your problem?” he asks, “you disappear for the entire fucking day, and now that I’ve finally found you, you ask me all these ridiculous questions and don’t tell me what’s going on and I’m tired of it Rukia, I’m so fucking tired of being left behind in your wake.” 

The words bubble up and pour out of him in a rush. 

“I’m here because there’s no where else for me to go. I’m on borrowed time in the Living World every time I go back - you know that as well as I do. I’m here because I can’t imagine being somewhere you’re not. I’m here because I asked to stay - because I _want_ to stay. I’m here –” Ichigo takes a deep breath, and before he can speak, Rukia steps into _shunpo_ and takes off. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Ichigo growls and takes off after her. He’s faster than she is and catches up to her in no time. He grabs her by the arm, pulling her into his own slipstream and she fights him the whole way. When he drops out of the slipstream, they are near the edge of the _seireitei_ , and he pushes her back against the city wall. She’s still fighting him - wriggling under his grip and lashing out with hands curled into claws. 

“Get off me,” she snarls, and Ichigo leans in close. 

“If I let go, will you stop being such a bitch?”

“Fuck you, Ichigo Kurosaki,” Rukia enunciates with such sharp clarity that Ichigo feels each syllable like a slice in his skin. Ichigo deflates. He lets her go and backs away. 

“I’m done fighting with you Rukia,” he says, and she _looks_  at him. “I answered your questions, now tell me what’s going on.” 

“I can’t,” she says, and there’s something almost afraid in the softness of her voice and it makes Ichigo pause before snapping back at her. “I don’t – Ichigo –” She lets out a long, slow breath and Ichigo waits her out. “I’ve never been _good_  at this sort of thing,” she says eventually, and Ichigo raises an eyebrow. 

“Look,” she says, “I just – you have no idea what you do to me, do you?” 

“What I do to you?” Ichigo repeats, and Rukia nods. 

“You,” she pauses, brows knitting together in thought. “You’re like a typhoon - you blew in and left everyone reeling in your wake and I don’t know how to put myself back together again.” There’s a naked vulnerability in her gaze that makes Ichigo’s heart clench. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, because he figures that he should. 

“Don’t be,” she whispers, “I don’t want to go back to who I was before.” 


	41. 27.  “When can I see you again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Angst.

The _senkaimon_  looms over the street. Rukia turns to go through it, both of them standing on the air above the clinic. Ichigo reaches out, catching her hand in his. She turns, and their eyes meet. 

“When can I see you again?” he asks, and Rukia’s smile is sad and slow. 

“I don’t know,” she says, and squeezes his hand. “You know I’ll be busy, I may not be able to get back here - you shouldn’t –” she stops, and looks up at him. “Don’t wait for me Ichigo,” she says, and Ichigo’s heart flips and stops in his chest before starting again with a battered rhythm. “Please don’t pine away waiting for me to come back. I couldn’t bear it. Live your life, enjoy your life.” 

“But –” Ichigo starts, and then tugs her towards him. She stumbles into his chest and he grips her arms, probably tighter than is strictly necessary. “Rukia,” he says, and then takes a deep breath. 

“No,” she says, shaking her head, “don’t. Just - _please_  don’t.” 

Ichigo ignores her protest. “I love you,” he says, and her eyes close, hiding herself from his gaze. She wilts in his embrace, dropping her head onto his chest. Her shoulders shake, and Ichigo drops his own head, pressing his lips to the crown of hers. When she looks up again, her eyes are filled with naked emotion and Ichigo’s chest clenches. 

“I can’t stay,” she says, and he nods. “I can’t promise to visit,” she says, and Ichigo nods again. “I can’t…” she looks meaningfully at him, and Ichigo curls his hand around her jaw, tipping her chin up. His thumb sweeps across her bottom lip. 

“I know,” he says, and leans in. She kisses him back like she’s drowning and he is the air she needs. It’s over too soon and she slips out of his arms too easily. 

“Goodbye Ichigo,” she says and steps through the gate. 


	42. Time Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the [deathberryprompts](http://deathberryprompts.tumblr.com) weekly drabble theme. The theme was 'horror'.

It’s amazing how quickly you can move when you have to, Ichigo thinks, absently, as he pushes his  _shunpo_ to a reckless level of speed. The wind of his passage leaves destruction in his wake but Ichigo spares it no notice. All he can see is her eyes - flared wide and violet and the spray of arterial blood that splattered the pavement between them. He remembers the choking grip of horror in his throat before it bled into a scarlet rage that left him breathing hard and _zangetsu_ dripping with gore. **  
**

She’s limp in his grip, and he squeezes her closer, willing her to hold on just a little bit longer.

She’s slipping through his fingers - like sand in the hourglass - and he can’t hold her any tighter than this.


	43. Double Bind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Written for the [](http://deathberryprompts.tumblr.com>deathberryprompts</a>%20weekly%20drabble%20theme.%20The%20theme%20was%20'excuses'.%20%0A%0AThis%20is%20vaguely%20canon-compliant%20up%20to%20about%20chapter%20685.)

“Stop making excuses.” **  
**

“I’m not! Rukia, c’mon, just –”

She whirls around. “Just _what_ , Ichigo?”

“Don’t be like this.” He reaches for her hand. She evades his touch.

“Did you think this would be _easy_? Did you think we’d just –” she pauses, and he watches her eyes close, watches her mouth settle into a grim line.

“This is the only way, Rukia. You _know_ that. And no, for the record, I _never_ thought it would be easy.” He reaches for her again, she relents and allows him to take her hand in his. “Please don’t make it any harder.”


	44. Dividing Lines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Set pre-TYBW. Angst. Written for the [deathberryprompts](http://deathberryprompts.tumblr.com) weekly drabble theme. This week's theme was 'memories'.

Ichigo’s life is divided into three - the time before, the time during, and the time after.

Memories before Rukia are tinted blue with rain and guilt. Memories with Rukia are coloured gold from the sun and shadowed with the violet of her eyes. Memories after Rukia are both colourless and featureless.

He wonders if he should come up with some kind of mental shorthand notation so that he can start attaching it to his memories - as if that would help his brain to know which ones not to dredge up in nightmares - as if it would stop the most painful ones from being the most frequently replayed.

When she comes back, colour blooms from the point of the sword thrust through his chest and when he meets her eyes with his, Ichigo realises that his life is now divided into four - because now there is the time once she returned.


	45. 19. “Lay down with me”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ishihime. Silliness.

He says it so quietly that she thinks she misheard him. “Pardon me,” she says, stalling for time. Ishida is lying on his back, staring up at the sky. Above them, the stars are coming out and it’s not like they’re not in public here along the riverbank, but still, for some reason, Orihime feels giddy and flustered. 

“Come and lay down with me,” Ishida repeats, and props himself up on his elbows. His glasses hide his eyes and Orihime bites her lip. “Inoue-san? Is something the matter?” He’s levering himself up to sitting and is in the act of getting to his feet when Orihime flops down beside him. 

“Okay,” she says, and Ishida sinks back onto his back. They lie, side by side, not quite touching, and the silence stretches between them, soft and comfortable. 


	46. Of T-Shirts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr prompt - "Rukia wearing one of Ichigo's shirts."

Rukia steals one of his shirts out of his drawer one morning, because you know, his shirts are several orders of magnitude more comfortable then one of her own. And she puts it on, and it hangs down past her hips and hits her upper thighs and the sleeves come down to her elbows, and she goes downstairs, barefoot and wearing only the t-shirt and makes the coffee. 

When Ichigo gets out of the shower, he heads downstairs too, pyjamas slung low on his hips, and finds Rukia sitting on the counter, watching the coffee pot, the sun slanting in through the kitchen window, painting her hair like ebony shot through with gold. 

He pads through the kitchen, and comes to rest between her knees. She looks up at him, and Ichigo can see the swell of her breasts when he looks down the loose neckline of his shirt. 

“Nice shirt,” he says, and Rukia grins. 

“I know,” she says. Ichigo snorts, and lowers his head, nuzzling her cheek with his nose before slanting his mouth over hers. The kiss is soft and sweet and slow and lovely, and the air smells of brewing coffee and a soft summer kind of breeze that filters in from the outside and when he lifts his head, Ichigo smiles and watches Rukia’s mouth curve into her own. 

“It’d look better on the floor,” Ichigo says, voice husked and Rukia laughs, punches him in the shoulder and slides off the counter. 

“You’d look better on the floor,” she retorts and hands him down a coffee mug from the cupboard. “Don’t laze about fool, you’ve got work.” 

“I know,” he says, and takes his coffee cup and his towel and walks back upstairs. 

“Love you,” Rukia calls after him, and Ichigo turns at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Love you too,” he says.


	47. Dreamers Never Learn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Post-686, canon-compliant. Written for [deathberryprompts](http://deathberryprompts.tumblr.com) weekly drabble theme. The theme was 'exhaustion'.

Ichigo is _tired_.

Actually, if he’s going to make use of that piece of paper that hangs over his desk in the den, he’s utterly and entirely exhausted, he’s thoroughly fatigued, he’s shattered and worn to nothing, he’s weary down to his fucking bones.

(It feels like he hasn’t slept since he was fifteen, since the night before Rukia walked through his wall and everything exploded into a riot of colour and light and sound.)

It’s like he’s stumbling through a minefield; always this close to setting off a chain reaction of explosions that will shatter the precariously balanced veneer of stability that he is hanging on to with the skin of his teeth.

He wonders what it is like to be able to sleep at night and not wake up with his heart pounding and his breath coming in heaving gasps that leave him lightheaded and woozy and wake his wife.

(She always rolls over to soothe him, and her gentle hands and soft voice make him want to crawl out of his skin and there’s always the echo of a sibilant whisper in the back of his mind, a keening cry for someone else’s touch, someone else’s voice.)


	48. Cædere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki, angst. Written for [deathberryprompts](http://deathberryprompts.tumblr.com) weekly drabble theme. Theme was 'graceful'.

Behind him, Zangetsu clatters to the ground as he leaps forward, his empty hand reaching for Rukia as she tips back in a graceful arc, out over the empty space at the edge of the cliff.

In this infinite moment, they are caught between heart beats and Rukia smiles. She blinks and Ichigo watches the sweep of her lashes against her skin, and thinks about black ink on rice paper. He thinks about the characters of her name next to his, about the weight of their promise and he _reaches_.

Ichigo’s fingers brush Rukia’s.  

She falls.

She falls.

She _falls_.


	49. "Don't fucking touch me"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Angst.

“Get your hands off me.” 

The threat in her voice is evident, and even if she weren’t armed, the flash of violence in her eyes would be enough to make anyone stand down. Ichigo takes a step back. 

She’s bleeding from a cut on her cheek, and her left arm hangs, useless, at her side. Blood drips down her hand, and off her fingers. It lands in a pool on the pavement beside her foot. Streetlights reflect in it’s surface.

“Rukia,” Ichigo tries, studiously ignoring the way she is glaring at him as if she might murder him with her eyes. “Your shoulder is dislocated, you have to let me pop it back in now or it’ll be impossible because of the swelling.” 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Rukia snarls, and then hisses in a breath. It comes out on a grunt of pain as she tries to sheathe her blade. She misses and the sword clatters to the ground. 

“Let me help Rukia, you can be mad at me later, but I have to pop your shoulder back in now.” 

“Damn right I’ll be mad at you later. I am mad at you now, Ichigo Kurosaki! You’re an idiot, a complete and utter idiot. What did you hope to accomplish?” 

“I was trying to protect you,” Ichigo says, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“Trying to protect me? Ichigo! You are the one without your powers, you are the one who is defenceless - I am perfectly capable of protecting myself!” 

“Did a bang up job of that didn’t you?” Ichigo retorts, gesturing at her arm and her face. 

“Don’t even start - I wouldn’t be like this if you hadn’t jumped in. I was doing just fine on my own!” 

“Oh for fuck’s sake Rukia, you were not doing _just fine_  - I had to pull that fucking beam off you, I thought –” Ichigo’s voice catches, and he stops. They stare at each other. 

Rukia breaks the silence. 

“Okay,” she says, “pop my shoulder back in.” 

Ichigo does. Rukia screams, but she buries it in his shoulder. If Ichigo holds her for longer than is necessary afterwards, neither of them say anything.


	50. "Please, put it DOWN."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Angst.

“C’mon Rukia,” Ichigo says, moving towards her the same way you'd want to approach a cornered animal. “You don’t want to do this.” 

“What if I do though, what if I really do?” 

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Ichigo says, stepping into Rukia’s line of sight, deliberately putting himself between her and the man cowering against wall. “You can put the gun down now Rukia, I promise.” 

“Get out of the way Ichigo,” Rukia says, and she drops the hammer. The sound is loud in the silence of the alleyway and Ichigo feels a drop of cold sweat slide down his spine. She is rock steady, and Ichigo knows the first shot was a deliberate miss. 

“No,” Ichigo says, and Rukia arches an eyebrow. “I won’t let you do this - you are not this person.” 

“What if I am _this_  person Ichigo?” Rukia asks, and she takes a step forward. Ichigo doesn’t move. The muzzle of her gun hits his chest. “Get out of the fucking way Ichigo, don’t think I won’t shoot you too.” 

Behind them, Ichigo can hear the man Rukia kneecapped wheezing. 

“You won’t shoot me,” Ichigo says, and if his cocky grin slips a little at the way Rukia pushes the muzzle into his sternum, well, he’s not going admit it out loud. 

“I might,” Rukia says, “if I knew it would mean I could kill _him_.” Rukia takes the weapon away from Ichigo’s chest and gestures to the figure behind them, who has managed to get his back up against the grimy wall. His silver hair glints in the dim light of the alley and Ichigo puts two and two together. 

He steps out of Rukia’s way. 

The retort of the gun echoes in the confined space. 


	51. “Don’t trust me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hichiruki. Angst + Smut. A bit dubious in the arena of consent.

“I could fuck you right now,” he says, his voice a too-soft croon in her ear, “and you’d beg me for it, wouldn’t you?”

Oh god, Rukia thinks, she would. She would make a deal with the devil - a thing that is more literal than she ever imagined it might be - if he would only stop teasing.

“Little slut, rubbing yourself against me like some bitch in heat - you’re so hot for him aren’t you? So hot that you’re willing to let me do what he won’t.” The Hollow mouths at the join of her neck, sucking a bruise into her skin. Rukia drops her head back, baring her throat to him. 

“Can’t deny it can you?” The Hollow husks a laugh, and Rukia whines as he pushes his thigh between hers, pressing up and back. 

Some far away part of her thinks she should be ashamed at the way she’s rutting against him, but the larger, more vocal part of her just wants him make good on his earlier threat. 

“Fuck me,” she says. The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them, and before she can backtrack, the Hollow takes her mouth in his. He bites down, hard, on her lip and Rukia squeals. The Hollow swallows the sound, and when he lifts his mouth, his lips are painted with her blood. 

“Told you not to trust me,” he says, and Rukia shivers. There’s something deadly in his voice. He’s got her backed up against a wall, bone white skin luminous in the moonlight and his mouth turned up in a shark’s grin. 

“Can’t help it,” she pants, as his teeth sink into her neck. “Oh god, Ichigo –” 

“I’m not Ichigo,” the Hollow interrupts, “no matter how much you’d like me to be.” The hand around her wrists squeezes and Rukia can feel the small bones grinding together. She arches in his grip, pressing her body against the hard planes of his.

“I don’t, please, I know you’re not Ichigo, I know – _please.”_ Rukia is babbling, nonsense spilling from her mouth as the Hollows hikes the skirt of uniform up over her hips and tears off her panties. He frees himself and with barely a pause, slides home. The air goes out of Rukia’s lungs like she’s been punched in the gut, but he doesn’t give her any time to adjust, merely tightens his grip on the back of her thigh and proceeds to fuck her into the wall. 

Every time he thrusts, the back of her head hits the wall, and she’s going to have bruises on her shoulder blades that are going to make swinging a sword hard, but she doesn’t care, she doesn’t care, she doesn’t _care_. 

Releasing her wrists, the Hollow reaches between them and Rukia comes with a shout, her whole body on fire. The Hollow’s rhythm stutters and stops, and Rukia opens her eyes. 

Staring at her, his cock still hard inside her and a dawning horror on his face, is Ichigo. 


	52. “I can’t breathe!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ishihime. Angst. Character death.

At night, when she dreams, she can still hear him - his voice gone quiet and strained around the edges, the way someone’s voice does when a building has come down on them. 

“It hurts Inoue-san,” he’d said, and she’d held his hand, felt the way his skin went cold, the way his fingers went limp as death crept through his veins. “I’m cold,” he’d said, and she’d brushed her fingers through his hair, caked as it was in dust and blood. 

She’d cried, she remembers, silent tears running down her cheeks, because the fairies could do nothing. Tsubaki stood on her shoulder, his small hand tangled in her hair, whispering that it was too late, he was too far gone, there was only so much they could do - as if she, the top of her nursing class, didn’t already know that crushing injuries are almost always hopeless, unless help arrives without delay. 

Help had not arrived. 

The earthquake had shaken down nearly half the city, and help was tied up with other people who had a better chance of surviving, people who were not staring sightless at the sky, their limp hand held between numb fingers. 

In the night, Orihime can still hear them, Ishida-kun’s last words, the soft, choking noise he’d made and then; “I can’t breathe, Orihime.” 

She blames herself. They tell her she shouldn’t, there was nothing to be done, that nothing she did made the earth tremble and the buildings fall, that she should be happy she was there with him, to comfort him and keep him company in his last moments, but all Orihime can see is his blood on her hands. 

She scrubs and scrubs and scrubs - running the water until it is scalding hot and the harsh soap she uses stings her raw skin. It never helps. Nothing helps. 

Her hands are always dripping red, going tacky in the air and the smell of copper lives in her nose. She can taste the tang of metal every time she breathes.

Orihime’s hands are covered in blood.


	53. “Please come get me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Weird things happen in this.

Ichigo’s phone rings. The sound of it is nearly deafening in the pre-dawn silence of his flat. He flails wildly for it, knocking his lamp askew and sending his alarm clock flying.

He glances at the caller ID before accepting the call, and is not at all prepared for the assault of background noise when he puts it up to his ear. 

_Ichigo?_

It’s Rukia’s voice, and there’s a thready note of panic underneath it that puts him on immediate alert. 

“Rukia? It’s the middle of the night, where are you?” 

_I don’t – Ichigo, will you just –_

There’s a jostling sound and a muffled thud, then the background noise dims considerably. 

_Will you come and get me?_

“Rukia,” Ichigo says, sitting up in bed. His room is inky black, and the numbers on his clock glare up at him from the floor. “It’s three thirty in the morning, I have class in five hours –”

_Ichigo, please._

She sounds like she’s on the verge of tears. 

“Where are you anyway? ” Ichigo swings his legs over the side of his bed. 

She doesn’t answer for so long that Ichigo takes the phone away from his ear to check that the call hasn’t disconnected. 

_I’m at that club – the one downtown._

Ichigo pulls on a pair of jeans, lodging his phone between his ear and his shoulder. Rukia keeps talking, telling him about where she is, and her voice is growing steadily stronger, the longer she stays on the phone with him. 

“Alright, I’m on my way. I’ll see you in fifteen minutes.” 

_Okay. I’ll wait out front._

He can hear the smile in her voice. 

It isn’t until he gets in his car, that he remembers that he hasn’t seen Rukia in three years, that it’s impossible that she has the number to a phone he didn’t have the last time they saw each other, and that there’s no way she’d be out clubbing in the _gensei_ , not if the rumours coming out of Urahara’s shop are to believed. 

Ichigo sits in his car, staring at his phone, until the sun comes up. 


	54. Clear and Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Written for [deathberryprompts](http://deathberryprompts.tumblr.com) weekly drabble theme. Theme was 'unbreakable'.

When the ice in her veins thaws and Rukia blinks, she sees nothing but a swathe of black fabric and hears nothing but ragged breathing above her head. **  
**

Ichigo’s arms - because of course they’re _his_ arms - cage her in. They are bands of iron across her back. Ichigo presses his face into her hair. She can hear him whispering.

He is saying her name, over and over, like it’s the only word he knows.

He’s here - unbroken - as if he’d always been - and yet, she had watched him fall, had seen the shocking crimson of his blood on the snow and had heard the brittle snap of her heart before the roaring in her ears overtook every other sound.

She barely remembers calling out her _bankai_ ; her only clear memory is the frigid rage that coalesced in the void in her chest and exploded outwards in swirling, knife-sharp blades of ice.

Rukia smothers her face in the folds of his _shihakusho_ , feeling the heat of his skin and the tremulous beating of his heart next to her cheek. The thrum of his _reiatsu_ buzzes under her skin - she can feel it again, and it vibrates right down into her bones.


	55. Within These Faulted Borders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hichiruki. Smut. Written for [deathberryprompts](http://deathberryprompts.tumblr.com) weekly drabble theme. Theme was 'possession'.

It’s not that Ichigo doesn’t get her off – because he does, and he’s remarkably effective about it – but it’s that with him, it’s always sweet and soft and lovely and sometimes, Rukia just wants to be _used_. She wants to feel the bite of his teeth, and the grip of his fingers, she wants to bear the marks of his passion like badges on her skin.

Ichigo is so gentle – his hands sweeping tenderly down her body, and his mouth leaves only the marks of lips and tongue across her porcelain-pale skin. He marvels at her slender wrists – holding them both in the gentle grip of one hand – and her narrow waist – spanning its circumference with both hands so his fingers touch at the base of her spine - but it’s not enough.

But when _he_ surfaces, when _he_ claws his way out of the depths of Ichigo’s soul and Ichigo’s eyes turn coal-black and the colour bleeds out of his skin until he is bone white and luminous in the moonlight; Rukia shivers at the feel of his nails in her skin, and at the bite of his fingers twisted in her hair. There is no denying the thrill that rides through her gut at the possession that simmers behind his eyes.

It’s always dark when it happens – nighttime or a shadowed afternoon – and Rukia wonders if she’ll ever get used to it. He presses her back against the nearest flat surface – horizontal or otherwise – and takes her apart with the kind of single-minded intensity that Ichigo can never quite manage to replicate. There’s no time to catch her breath, no time to sink into the sensation and let it wash over her – he is relentless and drives her over the edge without warning.

Afterwards, she wakes next to Ichigo, returned to his rightful place at the centre of his own mind and stretches languidly against him. Ichigo sweeps a hand down her side and Rukia hisses when his palm crosses a bite mark on her hip.

“Rukia, what – oh,” he says, and Rukia looks up at him. The timbre of his voice has changed, gone dark and the grip of his hand tightens. When he meets her gaze, his eyes are clear amber, but there’s a fierceness within them that makes Rukia’s blood heat. “Just remember,” he says, and there’s a growl under his voice that makes Rukia think of pale skin and black nails, “you were mine first.”


	56. Cinders (What the Moon Sees)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Angst. Set in a post-342 AU where nothing in canon after that happened. Written for [deathberryprompts](http://deathberryprompts.tumblr.com) weekly drabble theme. Theme was 'electric'.

The flickering light of the flame cupped in his hands throws the bottom of his face into shifting shadows as he lifts the lighter to the end of the cigarette gripped between his lips. She watches as he inhales, as his eyes close and he leans back on one hand to exhale. Smoke clouds the air above his head. Rukia follows his lead and turns to face the sky with him.

The moon is full – heavy with the incoming summer heat, but the air is cool enough tonight that Rukia has to fight the urge to shift closer to him, to see if he’s still as warm as he always was. A breeze rustles the newly leafed branches on the trees and lifts the ends of her hair. Rukia shivers, and wraps her arms around her middle.

If Ichigo could see her, he’d chide her for coming out without a coat, but he can’t, so he doesn’t. Rukia can still hear him though, the mocking edge of his voice tempered by the thread of genuine concern for her well-being as he admonishes her for coming outside under-dressed. He’d grumble and swing off the roof and down through his open window to bring her a blanket, and then fuss with it until he was sure it was properly wrapped around her shoulders before settling back down beside her.

He always sat too close to her. Close enough that their knees would touch, that their shoulders would brush, that it would have been far too easy for her to place her hand on top of his, for her to lace their fingers together, for her to lean into him and lift her chin and meet him halfway.

She never does, because she’s dead and he’s alive and there are some lines that she won’t cross.

Ichigo has no such compunction, and on a sultry night in August, with the moon barely a sliver above them, he’d pressed her back against the roof and the memory of the moment makes her flush now. She remembers lying next to him afterwards, in the shadowed darkness of his bedroom. He’d fallen asleep, the curve of a smile on his face, but she lay awake, her skin buzzing with leftover electricity.

She wondered then, if she’d be able to let him go - because it was always inevitable that she’d have to choose duty over love and that he _should_ choose life over death. That Ichigo would not allow her to make the choice was an altogether unexpected outcome and the paradigm shift sent her into a near tailspin, until the choice was made for both of them and she left him on the street in front of his house for the final time.

Now though, now he just smokes through his cigarette and flicks the butt down off the edge of the roof and then leans back on both elbows, to look up at the moon. He only ever has the one, and Rukia wonders if he realizes that he is more and more like his father with every passing year.


	57. 9. “I’m sorry I punched you in the face.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Silliness.

Ichigo’s holding his nose, blood welling between his fingers. 

“Whaddid you do that for Rukia?” he slurs, and sits down on his bed. Rukia pulls tissues out of the box and hands them to him. He tilts his head back and presses the tissues to the end of his nose. 

“I’m sorry,” Rukia says, “you startled me! I didn’t realise it was you.” 

“Who else would it be?” Ichigo grouses. “As if anyone else is dumb enough to try and wake you up by shaking you.” 

“I didn’t mean to punch you in the face!” Rukia protests, “I was aiming for your stomach - why were you so close to me anyway?” She looks at him, and Ichigo rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. 

“It’s breakfast time, didn’t want you to miss the pancakes.” 


	58. Cozy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kuukuya. Fluff.

The cold wind howls around the eaves of the manor house, but Kuukaku ignores it in favour of returning her attention to the spreading warmth of the _kotatsu_ and the spicy scent of the mug of tea that Byakuya has just handed her. **  
**

He slides under the blanket beside her, arranging the folds deftly so both of them are fully covered and Kuukaku relishes the press of his legs against her own. Outside, the storm rages, but in here, there are pools of gold light from the lamps and the comfort of shared company. Byakuya picks up his discarded book, turning the pages to find where he’d left off.

Kuukaku leans against him, and Byakuya shifts to bring his arm around her, and they remain, in companionable silence, until the book is forgotten and the fire burned low.


	59. Snug

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Fluff.

There’s something about waking up and knowing snow has fallen over night - it’s easy to tell, given the soft, cool light that seeps around the edges of the curtains in Ichigo’s room. Rukia’s still asleep, curled into a ball next to him, and Ichigo rolls over, snugging an arm around her waist and drawing her closer to him.

Ichigo buries his nose in the short hair at the nape of her neck, inhaling smell of freesia and the whisper of cold wind that he identifies as her _reiatsu_. Rukia murmurs incoherently, before sighing softly and going boneless against him.

Cocooned in the warmth of his blankets, Ichigo decides that there is nothing better then waking up next to her in the morning.


	60. Chilled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ishihime. Fluff.

It’s the coldest night so far this winter, and Ishida works late. He trudges back to their flat, snow nearly up to his knees in some less windswept parts of his walk. By the time he gets to the door, his pant legs are soaked and his hands are frozen.

He fumbles for his key and opens the door. Heat blooms out at him, and he scrambles to get inside so as not to let any of it out. The hall is dark, but there’s a light in the kitchen, so he toes off his shoes, slips on his slippers and heads in that direction.

Inoue’s asleep, head resting on her hands, on the kitchen table. Beside her, is a note.

> _Ishida-kun,_
> 
> _Your dinner’s in the oven, I hope you had a good day at work today! I missed you._
> 
> _Merry Christmas and I love you! <3_
> 
> _Your Orihime  
>  xxxxxx_

Ishida smooths the note against the tabletop and then smooths Orihime’s hair back from her forehead. She mumbles softly in her sleep. Ishida smiles fondly down at her.

“Merry Christmas Orihime,” he says, and watches, as still asleep, she smiles.


	61. Turnabout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shunuki. Fluff.

“None of that now,” Ukitake admonishes, as a snowball flies by him. The next one catches him square on the back of his head, and Ukitake turns to find the culprit, Kyouraku, doubled over with mirth. **  
**

“You’re setting a bad example Kyouraku- _taichou_ ,” Ukitake says, but when he straightens, Kyouraku’s eyes are full of mirth and the glimmer of a glare on Ukitake’s face fades as quickly as it had come.

Ukitake deftly molds his own ball of snow before pitching it towards his fellow captain. It catches Kyouraku in the chest, and both men smile at each other, before Ukitake turns to continue on his way and Kyouraku falls in step beside him.

Ukitake shoves his fellow _taichou_ into the snowbank at the first opportunity, and Kyouraku goes down, arms windmilling, while Ukitake throws his head back and laughs.


	62. Warm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ishihime. Fluff.

It’s the first proper snowfall of the season, and Inoue has dragged him outside. Ishida stands, hands shoved in his pockets and breath fogging up his glasses, glowering at the thick blanket of white that has covered Karakura and bought the city to a  near standstill.

“Isn’t it pretty?” Inoue sticks her arm through the space between his elbow and his body, and Ishida sighs. “C’mon Ishida-kun, isn’t the snow lovely?”

“Sure, Inoue-san,” he says, albeit sourly. Inoue’s eye brows draw together and she frowns for a moment before turning her face back up, wearing the sort of smile that heats something down near the base of his spine.

“Are you cold Ishida-kun?” Inoue asks, “do you want to go inside and ‘warm up’?”


	63. Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Fluff.

This time of the year, _Sode no Shirayuki_ is always close to the surface of Rukia’s mind; she curls like white smoke and spiralling frost through Rukia’s blood.

Rukia moves through her morning _kata_ in the snow-covered courtyard at the thirteenth, stubbornly ignoring the way the cold air sears her lungs when she inhales, and the way her muscles never fully warm through.

She ignores _Sode_ ’s mutterings as she putters through paperwork, and attempts to fight off the seeping cold of the winter by warming her hands with mug after mug of hot, sweet tea.

It’s not until later, when she’s lying in bed next to Ichigo - and she’s warm, properly, truly _warm_ all the way down to her soul - that she realises all she’d wanted all day was the heat of him next to her, and _Sode_ settles in her head, turning from restless blizzard to soft winter twilight and Rukia curls closer to Ichigo before falling asleep herself.


	64. Mistletoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Fluff.

“It’s mistletoe, Ichigo!” Inoue laugh-yells and Ichigo feels his face heat. Rukia’s staring at the plant hanging from the doorway with a confused expression on her face. Ichigo can hear Ishida burying a laugh behind his hand as he pulls Inoue away from the doorframe. **  
**

“What - what is it for?” Rukia asks, and Ichigo closes his eyes - here is a conversation he doesn’t want to have. “Well Ichigo? I’m waiting.”

“It’s - ah - well,” Ichigo rubs the back of his neck, “if you stand under it with someone you’re supposed to kiss them - but it’s a silly western tradition, I don’t know where Inoue-san got it, and look, we don’t have to – mmph — “

When Rukia pulls away, her eyes are shining. “Merry Christmas,” she says, and Ichigo grins.


	65. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Fluff.

They come to a stop at a quiet corner, their footprints the only ones to be seen in the fresh coat of powder.

Rukia squeezes her mittened hand around his. Ichigo looks down at her. She looks up.

Snow is gently falling; flakes alighting in her hair and coming to rest on her eyelashes.Her eyes are lit by the muted light from the streetlamps and her cheeks are flushed from the cold.

“Ready to go home?” Rukia asks, and Ichigo feels a flood of soft warmth bloom in his chest.

_Home_ , he thinks, leaning down to brush her nose with his own, _home is right here_ **.**


	66. Enraptured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Written for the [ deathberryprompts ](http://deathberryprompts.tumblr.com) weekly drabble theme. This week's theme was 'paradise'.

Ichigo has been through hell and back - literally. He’s seen devils and ghosts and monsters and madmen. He has fought for honour and pride and he has clawed his way to victory from the depths of despair. 

But, he thinks, right here - his hips cradled between her thighs, her breath hot against the side of his neck, her spine arched so her chest presses against his - here is where he always wants to be.

There’s no Eden more glorious then the wet heat of her, no paradise more beautiful then the haze that clouds her eyes as he drives her to the brink and then over the edge. There is nothing in heaven like the moment when she shatters beneath him and he comes apart after her, both of them swept up in the tide. 


	67. All That Remains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Written for this week's [ deathberryprompts ](http://deathberryprompts.tumblr.com) weekly drabble theme. This week's theme was 'leftovers'.

Ichigo’s packing up leftovers when he hears the tail end of a familiar laugh.

He pauses. The kitchen remains silent, but Ichigo waits, flimsy plastic lid clutched in his hands.

Eventually, the fridge kicks on and Ichigo startles. He fumbles the lid and it clatters against the floor. Ichigo is straightening after retrieving it, when he feels a whisper of cold wind down the back of his neck.

He whirls around. His heart thunders in his chest. The sudden rush of adrenaline drives all his senses into overdrive.

There’s no one there.

Ichigo ignores the familiar sinking feeling in his chest, snaps the lid onto the container and throws it into the fridge, banging the door shut hard enough to rattle the bottles on its shelves.

Rationalizing is pointless, so Ichigo doesn’t, and he climbs the stairs to his bedroom, one step at a time.

He dreams of her that night – always just out of reach, never quite looking at him – and wakes up, one arm stretched across his bed, fingers reaching for someone that is no longer there.


	68. 38 “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ishihime. Silliness.

“You know Ishida-kun,” she says voice suspiciously light, when he opens his eyes and looks up at her from his position on the floor. “If you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go to such extreme lengths.” 

“Wha–” 

“You fainted Ishida-kun!” Inoue exclaims. “Right into my arms!” 

Ishida frowns. 

“I did not faint,” he says, and Inoue laughs. Ishida’s frown deepens. 

“Okay Ishida-kun, whatever you say.” Inoue reaches forward to help Ishida sit up, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Are you okay? What happened? Did you eat lunch today? Have you had enough water–?” Orihime pauses for a breath. 

She looks at him, her face inches from his. She wonders if he’s always been this prone to flushes and then the thought spirals away into the possible causes for the flush - fever, dehydration, over-heating - and to quell the rising anxiety over his condition, she reaches out to brush her hand across his forehead. 

Ishida starts violently, and Orihime’s hand lands on his glasses, knocking them askew. “What are you doing Inoue-san?” Ishida asks, fixing his glasses. His eyes are so blue behind them and Inoue notices that they they are flecked with grey. 

“I – you’re flushed Ishida-kun, I was checking to see if you have a fever.” 

“Well,” Ishida says, getting to his feet, “as you can see, I am perfectly fine.” He reaches down to give her a hand up. Inoue hesitates before taking his hand, but he pulls her smoothly to her feet beside him. “Fit as a fiddle!” Ishida declares and Inoue feels her mouth curve into a smile. 

“You’re ridiculous,” she says, and then, more seriously; “are you really okay?” 

“Yes, I’m fine,” Ishida says, “I think I just got a bit too much sun.” 

“Okay then,” Inoue says, “I’m glad you’re alright.” 


	69. Conflagration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Written for the [ deathberryprompts ](http://deathberryprompts.tumblr.com) weekly drabble theme. This week's theme was 'cape.'

This death will be quick, and it will be painless and all of the dragging weight on her shoulders will finally be lifted. Rukia breathes, feeling the heat of the flames on her face, feeling the scorch of the air as it reaches her lungs, and she welcomes the bite of the pain in her chest – one final act of penance.

She is ready, she is at peace.

Rukia closes her eyes.

 _Now_ , she thinks, _consume me._

The fire never comes.

Instead, Ichigo grins, and his cape flutters in the wind and the illusion of peace is shattered with one word.

“Yo.”


	70. Profanities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the [ deathberryprompts ](http://deathberryprompts.tumblr.com) weekly drabble theme. The theme was 'fuck'.

It’s a word hissed and shouted, a word said through gritted teeth and a word thrown out of wide open lips. It is verb, noun, adverb, and adjective. It is invective, declarative, inquisitive and affirmative. It is, in Ichigo’s opinion, the most versatile word in his entire vocabulary.

Ichigo’s favourite way to use it is emphatic and loaded, as a statement in and of itself. It’s a frequent utterance, and Ichigo has long since given up caring whether this makes him sound crass. The word has its uses.

After he meets Rukia, he learns several other ways to say it; with fond exasperation, ringing with terror, and pulled out of him with the wet heat of her mouth – and, he discovers his new favourite way to hear it; breathy and hitched, followed by his name, when she breaks under him and drags him over the edge in the riptide pull of her climax.


	71. One-Track Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the [ deathberryprompts ](http://deathberryprompts.tumblr.com) weekly drabble theme. The theme was 'gaze.'

Rukia laughs at something in the manga she’s reading and stretches her arms over her head before dropping back onto his bed. Her skirt rides up her thighs, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Ichigo forces himself to turn back to the problem set in front of him.

The numbers blur on the page. Math holds no allure, and every time Rukia moves on his bed, his hearing zeroes in on the sound.

He chances a glance, and finds Rukia gazing back at him. She’s lying on her stomach, propped up on her elbows, book open in front of her.

“You look a bit peaked,” she says, Ichigo huffs and goes back to his homework.

_What does she know about **piqued** , anyway?_


	72. (C'mon, C'mon Now) Touch Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ishihime. Inspired by a reply on a tumblr post.

It’s Orihime who has the record collection, and when she’d moved in, Ishida had been weighed down by milk crate after milk crate of dusty vinyl. He’d schlepped them up the stairs into his flat, one by one, leaving them in a line on the floor under the shelf he’d previously cleared for Orihime’s record player. 

Orihime plays records when she’s washing dishes or cooking or cleaning the flat, and sometimes, she likes to lie on the floor with the headphones plugged in, listening to something Ishida can’t hear. 

Orihime’s taste in music is … eclectic. 

She’s got a little bit of everything in those milk crates on the floor and she comes home with more of them every time she goes out on Saturday mornings to the flea market downtown. 

Ishida mostly lets her get on with it, every one has their thing after all, and he does, occasionally, actively like something she puts on. 

It’s late one Friday, and they’ve been trading shots of  _saké_ for hours. They’re done the first year of med school and both of them are silly drunk and sprawled on the living room floor. Orihime’s record player has been the soundtrack of their evening and they’ve pawed through her milk crates and left her collection in complete disarray. 

“Hey,” Ishida slurs, handing Orihime a dark blue sleeve with small white writing and the band on the front. “This one next.” 

Orihime takes the sleeve from Ishida and carefully slips the album out. She lays it almost reverently on the turntable and sets it spinning. 

It’s the second song that gets them up off the floor, and Orihime belts the first line, dragging Ishida around her in a weaving circle in the kitchen. She sings the rest of it along with the record, and Ishida dances along, catching the refrain the second time it comes around. 

“Come on, come on, come on, now touch me babe.” 


	73. Luminous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Angst. Written for [deathberryprompts](http://deathberryprompts.tumblr.com). The theme was 'leave'.

When she leaves – when she’s  _taken_ , when she calls him ‘human’ and ‘fool’ and forbids him from following her and he dies on the road, rain-soaked and bloody – the last thing he sees is her face, luminous in the inky darkness of the night, as if she is lit by moonlight from within.

Now, Ichigo sits on the roof of Urahara’s  _shoten_ , blanket wrapped loosely around his shoulders, and watches the moon rise over Karakura. It’s full, heavy with the encroaching summer’s heat and a gentle breeze lazily stirs the remainder of last fall’s leaves in the corners of the yard. The breeze is chilled still, winter not quite ready to relinquish its hold over the city, and Ichigo hunches his shoulders further under the blanket.

“School’s been quiet,” he begins, voice pitched low enough to be almost inaudible, “no one seems to notice that you’ve gone.” Ichigo pauses, and looks up, wry smile on his face. The moon stares back, impassive. Ichigo looks back down at where his ankles are crossed. This is a bit silly, he thinks, and shifts so he can rest his chin on his hand, elbow on his knee.

Ichigo sighs, and turns his face back up to the sky.

He doesn’t say anything else. 


	74. Indelible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Angst. Written for [deathberryprompts](http://deathberryprompts.tumblr.com). The theme was 'ichor'.

Rukia thinks Ichigo should bleed gold - that it should spill through her fingers like filigree across canvas, and that it should shine and burn and  _glow_. 

He doesn’t though, he bleeds oh-so-human red, no godlike ichor in his veins, no saving him from this. It pools, crimson and stark, against the melting ice beneath him. 

He’s in her lap, the closest they’ve been in  _months,_  and he’s bleeding out all over her pretty white dress. Rukia doesn’t stop to think about the picture they make - the moon curling over the sun, overshadowing him like some kind of backwards eclipse - and she watches his eyes close and feels the way his body goes heavy and still, and she cannot silence the noise that claws out of her throat. 

.

.

It sounded, everyone says later, like she was dying, too. 


	75. Moonlit Chaser

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Smut. Written for [deathberryprompts](http://deathberryprompts.tumblr.com). The theme was 'wait'.

Beneath him, Rukia’s skin is moon-silvered; her eyes gone diamond bright. Her hair falls against his pillow like raven’s feathers. Her breath hitches, and she bites her bottom lip. Ichigo slows, and Rukia arches against him, seeking friction, her heels drawing up along his calves, as if she could pull him further inside.

“Wait,” Ichigo says, breathless and Rukia raises one eyebrow. Ichigo ducks his chin, dropping his head to mouth along her shoulder. Rukia clenches around him, and Ichigo hisses in a breath. “Okay,” he says, “okay.”

This time, when her breath hitches and she says his name on a sigh, he doesn’t stop, and topples them both over the edge; softly, gently, sweetly.


	76. Remnant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Timeskip angst. Written for [deathberryprompts](http://deathberryprompts.tumblr.com). The theme was 'vanish'.

Afterwards, her indecision plagues her.   
  
Rukia had looked up at the last moment, and Ichigo’s deer-in-the-headlights gaze is burned into her memory. He had been looking down at her, and she’d heard his breath catch as their eyes met, just the same as she’d felt her heartbeat trip over itself. She could have, so easily, lifted onto the balls of her feet and swallowed up his last goodbye, but she hadn’t – and why not? Rukia thinks she’ll never know the answer.   
  
So, she vanished before his eyes, melting away like so much snow in the heat of the summer sun.


	77. Live (Like You're Made of Glass)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Angst. Written for [deathberryprompts](http://deathberryprompts.tumblr.com). The theme was 'time'.

There’s time for nothing once she walks through his wall. 

It’s run and jump and hide and duck and laugh and nearly die (but not quite), and then _actually_  die and fight the monsters and chase the ghosts and oh, there’s still papers and due dates and homework too – and in the scant moments Ichigo has left over, there’s Rukia; all violet-eyed wonder and soft hands and heat and want and rush, rush, rush. 

There’s villains and heroes and swords and sorcery and a no-win choice that shakes him to his foundations. 

And then, and then, and _then_ – 

Violet eyes limned with tears and his throat closing around her name. 

–she’s gone. 

All of a sudden, Ichigo has time. He has minutes and hours and seconds. He has entire days and months and then, a year, and almost another one. 

All it cost him was everything he ever wanted.


	78. 36.  “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Angst. Grief. Character death.

“I don’t think you should be alone right now,” Renji says. Ichigo ignores him. Renji tries again. “Really though, is there someone I can call?” 

“Sure, if you’ve got the number for the afterlife.” Ichigo’s voice is bitter like black coffee. His gaze cuts to Renji, and their eyes meet. Renji takes an involuntary step back. Ichigo’s eyes are lifeless, but there’s a bristling rage seething in their depths. “I’m fine Renji, I’m not going to do anything stupid. It’s not like I don’t know what happens to  _shinigami_  when they die.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“I know what you’re doing,” Ichigo says, and gets up from the table to pace. “Stop it. I don’t need your fucking sympathy or your surveillance.” 

“Ichigo–” Ichigo's glare could freeze lava. Renji tries another tactic. “Look, I’m just trying to help, okay?” 

“You can’t help,” Ichigo says, coming to a stop in front of Renji. “You can’t help, so stop fucking trying. Nothing fucking helps, okay? She’s gone, I’m still here, and yeah, you know what?” Ichigo leans right up into Renji’s face, eyes glittering and empty. Renji backs up until his back hits the wall. “Maybe I shouldn’t be alone, but if I’m gonna fucking off myself, I could have done it already, even with you here.”

Renji takes a deep breath. Ichigo waits him out, staring at him, unblinking. “I still don’t think I should leave you here alone, but if you want me to go, I’ll go.” 

Ichigo deflates. He looks down and away from Renji, before returning to his chair at the table. Renji takes a step towards him and Ichigo looks up. This time, Renji’s breath gets caught in his throat. The mood has shifted, and the despair in Ichigo’s gaze is something Renji will never reconcile with the image of the boy that he has in his head. 

“She’s gone,” Ichigo says, as if he’s just realized it now. 

“Yeah,” Renji says, sitting down on the other side of the table. “She is.” 

Ichigo scrubs his hands over his face, and then through his hair. Before pressing his palms against the surface of the table. There’s a pause before he speaks, and Renji itches to fill it, but holds his tongue while Ichigo summons up whatever he wants to say. “I’m gonna– I’m gonna go to bed,” Ichigo says finally, and Renji nods. 

Ichigo stands, and Renji stands with him. “Call me in the morning, okay?” Renji says, and reaches out, dropping his hand on Ichigo’s shoulder as the younger man shuffles past on his way out of the kitchen. 

Before Ichigo goes through the door, he turns back to look at Renji. “I miss her,” he says, voice choked. 

“Me too,” Renji says, and watches Ichigo climb the stairs, as if each step is Everest itself. 

Renji lets himself out of the house, locking the door behind him. Once he’s outside, he looks up at the moon, hanging high and silver in the sky, and then he turns back to the house, watching it for a brief moment, before stepping into  _shunpo_  and disappearing. 


	79. 28 “keep your eyes on me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Smut.

“Eyes on me, Rukia,” he says, and he lifts himself onto his palms. He looks down at her - her head thrown back and eyes closed as he moves within her. 

She arches beneath him, and Ichigo spares a glance down the length of her body, eyes catching on how her breasts quiver as she breathes, how the tension in her core makes her stomach muscles jump and then down to where they are joined, before he looks back up at her face again. Colour rides high on her cheeks, and she’s biting her lip almost bloodless. 

“Rukia,” he says again, and she opens her eyes and meets his gaze. Violet framed by sooty lashes, lit by her internal moonlight and heated by the embers at her core - the embers he is stroking into a conflagration with every thrust. Ichigo wants to lose himself in those depths, wants to drop forward and fall in, and let her catch him, let her hold him, let her shatter him. 

Rukia’s hand slides from his shoulder to his face, and she cups his jaw. Like this, it’s almost like a feedback loop – like he’s developed touch telepathy in the last 0.5 seconds – because all of a sudden everything turns up to eleven and his nerves sing with pleasure that sinks and coils into a heated pool at the base of his spine. He groans, and nearly breaks her gaze, but something in her eyes dares him to keep holding on. 

Rukia’s nails are clawed into his shoulders while Ichigo’s hips roll into hers, the slick slide of their bodies together the only sound in the room. He can feel her getting close in the telltale tremble in her thighs and see it in the arch of her spine. Rukia’s eyes flutter shut again, and Ichigo shifts his weight onto one hand so he can reach up to trace the shell of her ear. 

"Look at me,” he husks, “don’t close your eyes.” She nods, eyes once more locked with his and Ichigo snaps his hips forward, driving her up the bed. 

“Again,” she pleads, lifting her hips to meet his, “again.” Her eyes never leave his and Ichigo watches as they dilate and haze, watches as she struggles to keep them open when they want to flutter shut, watches as they widen when she comes. She goes taut as a bowstring under him. His name shatters on her lips, and Ichigo is swept up in the tide of her pleasure.  


	80. "Did you think i didn't know?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Fluff.

“Did you think I didn’t know!?” Rukia is incredulous. 

Ichigo hides his embarrassment by lifting a hand to the back his neck and looking down and away from Rukia. “Well, I–” he begins, and then Rukia reaches up, and grabs his chin, turning his face towards hers. 

“You idiot,” she says, fondly, before leaning up on her toes and pulling his face down. “Of course I knew.” She kisses him then, and Ichigo’s hands span her waist while her hands cup his face. When the kiss breaks, she sinks back down to flat feet and smiles. “I’ve known all along.” 


	81. 2. With a hoarse voice, under the blankets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Fluff.

Ichigo has a cold. His nose is running, his eyes are bleary and his head pounds. He is, to put it mildly, absolutely miserable.  The pile of kleenex grows ever taller as the evening wears on, and the initial relief of the mug of tea fades as his scratchy throat comes back and with it, a hacking cough. 

Rukia’s palm is cool on his brow, when she comes home to find him burrowed under the blankets on the couch. “Hey sicko,” she says, affectionate. Ichigo makes a noise he will not call pitiful. This is a position he will have a hard time defending. 

“You’re running a bit of a fever,” Rukia says. “I’ll make a fresh pot of tea, and then you need to eat something - what about a bowl of soup?” 

“Kay,” Ichigo agrees, and Rukia smooths her hand through his hair. “Missed you today,” he says, and Rukia smiles. She leans down to kiss his forehead. 

“I’ll be right back.”  Rukia turns at the door to the kitchen to blow him a kiss, that Ichigo half-heartedly catches. The effect is ruined by him sneezing again and Rukia leaves him to it. 

When she comes back with the bowl of soup, Ichigo rouses himself enough to sit up and eat. The warmth of the chicken broth soothes his throat and the steam goes to work opening his sinuses. Rukia settles in beside him with a hastily thrown together sandwich and her own bowl of soup. 

Once Ichigo is done his soup, he sets the bowl down, and sinks back down into his nest of blankets. He yawns. 

“You should go to bed,” Rukia says, but Ichigo shakes his head. 

“Happy here,” he says, a touch petulant. Rukia laughs. “Don’t laugh at me, I’m sick.” As if to prove his point, he sneezes hugely and this sets Rukia off again. Ichigo groans. 

“Here,” Rukia hands him a kleenex, and then gets up to take their bowls back to the kitchen. She turns off the light in the living room as she goes. 

“Love you,” Ichigo says, from under the blankets, sleepy and hoarse. 


	82. 31. In awe, the first time you realised it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Fluff.

“Hey! Ichigo!” Rukia calls. Ichigo half-turns at the sound of her voice and catches Rukia’s smile. The school uniform makes her look almost like one of them, almost but not quite - she’s still otherworldly beautiful; those violet eyes and that alabaster skin. 

There’s more to it than just appearances though - Ichigo can’t quite put his finger on what it is exactly, but there’s something about her, some depth of feeling that she invokes and–

“Oh,” Ichigo says aloud, eyes widening almost comically. “Oh.” Rukia raises an eyebrow, looking at him like he’s being particularly weird for no good reason. He lifts a hand to rub the back of his neck. “Ah, never mind.” 

“Tell me,” Rukia demands, staring up at him, hands on her hips. The breeze flirts with the hem of her school uniform skirt, and ruffles the ends of her hair. 

“It’s nothing,” Ichigo hedges, and hitches his bag up further on his shoulder and turns on his heels. 

“Ichigo!” Rukia grabs his arm, and Ichigo lets her pull him back around to face him. “What is your problem?” 

Ichigo shrugs. Rukia plants her hands on her hips and looks up at him. 

“You’re ridiculous,” she says. Ichigo looks down at her, but Rukia drops her gaze, and Ichigo gets a view of the crown of her head instead. She shuffles her feet in place, and the confidence slides out of her shoulders. 

Ichigo decides that won’t do and tips her chin up with one finger. “I just–” he pauses, and swallows. “I love you,” he says, in a rush before he can talk himself out of it. 

“Oh,” Rukia says. Her voice is hushed with wonder, but her eyes soften, and the smile that curves her lips lights her whole face. “I love you, too.” 


	83. First time, make it awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichiruki. Fluff, bit o' smut.

The first time, it was… well. 

Ichigo cringes now, thinking back on that night of fumbling that went a half a step too far for either of them to take it back. 

(He’d lost it in three seconds, and Rukia had looked up at him, disappointed, from her position under him on his tiny single bed.) 

(They get better at it) 

But Ichigo doesn’t count the first time as The First Time™ though - because it was over so quick and all a rush of fumbling and weird body noises and there was a moment where he was sure he’d hurt her and then Rukia’d said his name all breathy and ragged and it was all over. 

The time he counts as The First Time™, is the first time they came together after she came back - because that was like coming home, like the final missing pieces in his puzzle slotting back together and all the jagged edges smoothing over. 

After the betrayal and the bite of death and the infusing warmth of power returning to his veins, he’d finally managed to corner her on the rooftop of the school. 

“Seventeen months,” he’d said, and Rukia had nodded. Her eyes were the same bottomless pools they always were, and Ichigo had stepped in, and drowned. 

When he’d finally come back up for air, she’d been looking up at him flushed and glassy-eyed and breathless. The look in her eye was all the permission he’d needed and he’d flung them off the rooftop, swinging her onto his back, and lit out for the tiny single bed that had, not that long ago, seemed so impossibly empty. 

Now, it was filled with two pairs of hands and two mouths and acres and acres of previously uncharted skin and Ichigo and Rukia mapped every inch. The rush to the edge was fast and furious, both of them dropping over at the same time, eyes locked and fingers entwined. 

In the quiet after, Ichigo mused that maybe they’d have to get back into better practice, and Rukia smothered a laugh into his shoulder. 

(They keep practicing.)


End file.
